


Splintered Minds

by MellowCorn, natsora



Series: Elements of Ryder [5]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Action, Angst, Aromantic Sara Ryder, Blood, Blood and Gore, Dark fic, Death, F/M, Gen, Graphic Description of Injury, Graphic Description of Murder, Horror, Hurt, Injury, Innuendo, Medical Inaccuracies, Murder, Mystery, Nightmare, PTSD, Panic Attack, Past Rape Mention, Psychological Thriller, Surgery, Thriller, Violence, aromantic main character, autistic main character, bone fracture, cardioversion, rape implied, rape mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2019-09-26 18:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowCorn/pseuds/MellowCorn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: Sara Ryder is a survivor. She never pretends to be an angel. Her soul is tarred and she knows it. Sara Ryder is a soldier, trained by her father and honed by the Alliance to accomplish the mission. She isn’t here to make friends or find a family. She already has one, Scott.With the looming threat of a new kett temple, a never quite healed injury and relentless nightmares from her last misadventure on Eos, she has to handle a string of murders that runs in her wake.When the shadows come knocking, Sara Ryder will do as she is trained. She is going to fight.The relationship between Harry Carlyle and Sara Ryder is purely sexual.Sequel toRaining in Eos. ReadingRaining in Eosis not really required, but it helps.





	1. Eos Revisited

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MellowCorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowCorn/gifts).



> This is a direct sequel to Raining in Eos. It tracks how the relationship between Ryder and her crew changes after her ordeal. Fair warning is a dark fic. Ryder is going to places nobody really wants to follow. Tags and characters will be updated as the story goes along.
> 
> [Check out this piece of art by Seo](http://seokanori.tumblr.com/post/178683603786/sara-ryder-sm-project-natsora-seokanori), it's directly linked to the chapter!
> 
> Character, plot and art all by the awesome [Seo Kanori on Tumblr](http://seokanori.tumblr.com/)!

Trapped. Hands pinned, legs locked. Breaths coming quick and frantic. 

_No. Not again!_

Renewed efforts to pull, to twist, to fight. Grunts of efforts and pants of exertions to no avail. 

_No! I will not die here!_

Pain flared. Agony lancing, piercing and stabbing. It didn’t matter. Fighting was the only option. A shadow flickered at the edges, body stiffening in response, hands yanking against restraints. 

_Fuck, no!_

The shadow split into two, then three. They drifted closer. A chill washed over naked skin. Something glinted in the hands of one of the shadows. Something small and sharp. 

_No!_

Recognition and memory forced tired limbs into action once more. Flesh that was raw and abused, muscles that trembled from strain and fatigue but worst of all the mind recoiled from what was coming. 

_The fucking nail!_

The shadow raked the sharp point across bare skin. Adrenaline and fear made goose pimples of smooth skin. It went from the foot upwards, brushing past inner thigh, between legs up to chest. The sharp point left a trail of broken skin in its wake before finally resting on hand. 

There was no escape, no recourse. Teeth caught lips in preparation of what was to come. Begging wasn’t allowed, crying wasn’t permitted. There was only stiff back endurance. 

The shadow flashed a razor-sharp smile. “Ready?” it asked. 

_No. Fucking hell no!_

There was no warning, no preamble. One second of anticipation, then bright and sharp, pain drilled into nerves, flesh and bone. A scream so loud, so high, it was unrecognisable, rang out. 

* * *

And she jolted upright. Her breaths came quick and fast, her heart slammed against her ribs, ready to escape forcibly. Her eyes wide and wild, darting across her room, finding only dark corners and shifting shadows. 

“You’re not safe, not safe, not safe!” her mind insisted.

Her hands clenched and relaxed in turns as she tried to tell her mind to shut up. It wasn’t working. 

“Pathfinder, I detect high levels of cortisol in your body, is everything all right? Do you require Dr. T’Perro?” SAM asked via their private channel. 

Ryder didn’t reply. Her mind had won out. She launched herself out of bed, her hand reaching out for the pistol under her pillow. Pistol leading the way, she methodically cleared the room. Chasing shadows away with sharp eyes and a hardened stance. 

“Pathfinder, do you require assistance?” SAM repeated. 

It was then only then her mind relented. As her breathing calmed, Ryder said, “Stand down, SAM. Everything is fine. Just leave me alone.”

SAM silenced, her mind quieted, Ryder was starting to realise how chill she felt. She was covered in sweat. In the eye-searing brightness of the lights, she realised her hand was bleeding. 

_Again._

It throbbed and pulsated like it had a life of its own. Maybe it did. It refused to heal, insisted on weeping, bleeding, doing everything but heal. 

_Maybe I should be grateful it hadn’t got infected._

Three months and counting, it must be some kind of record. She sighed and tapped her omni-tool for the time. It was 0400 hours ship time. Feeling sticky and disgusting, she got her towel and toiletries, and headed to the showers. There was no way she was going to sleep any more. And she’d rather redress the wound on her right hand before anyone noticed and decided it was their business to comment. 

Bare feet padded silently on the cool steel floor of the Tempest. The lights were on night mode. The only source of illumination was a strip of dim lights that lined strategic spots. She made sure the door between the sleeping quarters and the showers was shut before stripping. Clothes tossed into the communal hamper, laundry duty was on a rotating roster. 

_Thank fuck, the Pathfinder is exempted from this particular duty._

She stepped into the impractically designed showers and hit the panel. Water hit her skin, and she sighed. Ryder couldn’t help sending a baleful thought to the designer of the Tempest, specifically the one who thought two showers and one toilet was enough to accommodate a working crew of their ship’s size. Yet, another reason to avoid the morning rush hour.

Her shower had to be quick. There was no time to luxuriate under the running water. Water was a precious commodity on Eos as well as the Tempest, especially when they were running on active mission parameters. Ryder promised herself a long hot shower the next time they docked on the Nexus or Meridian. Her shower-head beeped indicating she had two minutes left. Closing her eyes, she stepped directly under the stream of water. Water ran down in rivulets, saturating her hair, washing the standard issue shampoo off. It cascaded down her back, between her breasts and passed scars new and old. Finally, she shifted and held her right hand up to the water. 

Turning it palm up, the skin there was mostly smooth except for a darker raised circular scar where the nail had rammed through. Her finger traced the scar, it tingled at her touch. 

The memory of a sharp pain lanced up her arm. She grunted and shook her hand to get rid of the sensation. Turning her right hand around, she looked at the back of her hand. Closing her hand into a fist, she stretched the skin taut, the wound tore a little wider. It had healed some, but it didn’t seem to heal like the other side. 

Ryder watched the water tinged red as the shower panel beeped again. The water pressure eased off and stopped completely. She straightened and towelled off. As she stepped out of the shower, she tossed the wet towel into the hamper and padded to her room, naked. 

She met nobody along the way. It didn’t really matter if she did anyway. Her naked form wasn’t something to be ashamed of. She put on yet another standard Initiative uniform and pulled her hair into a rough ponytail. 

Her next stop was the med-bay. It was likewise dark and empty. The swirling graphics of an angara scan bathed the room in red and blue. Ryder looked at it for a moment, her eyes tracing recognisable, yet exotic shapes, before she turned away. She was pretty much familiar with the med-bay by now, namely the drawer where all the medi-gel were kept. 

With a tug, the drawer came open and a shrill alarm rang out. “What the fuck?” Ryder exclaimed as she covered her ears with her hands. 

It was a futile gesture. “SAM, turn off the alarm,” she instructed. 

“Affirmative,” SAM said. 

Two seconds later, the alarm died with a final squeak. Her ears were still ringing in its wake. The door slid open and T’Perro entered. She was rubbing her eyes blearily. It took a couple of blinks for her eyes to finally focused on Ryder. 

“What the hell?” she blurted. 

Lexi cleared her throat as she straightened her creased pyjamas and stood to her full height. It put her slightly taller than Ryder. “So you’re the one.”

She frowned, sticking one finger into her ear and tried to get the ringing out of her head. It wasn’t working. “What are you talking about?”

“The medi-gel supplies has been pilfered. I imagined Liam or Drack was taking them to patch themselves up just to avoid having me looking at them. I didn’t expect the Pathfinder to be the one.”

Ryder sighed. “What’s wrong with patching ourselves up? It’s just a minor wound, nothing medi-gel wouldn’t solve.”

“That’s not the point. I am the medical doctor here. If I am not aware of your various aliments and have a good record of them, how am I supposed to make medical recommendation to the best of my abilities?”

Ryder was done listening to T’Perro prattle on about protocols and paperwork. She grabbed a handful of medi-gel packs and stuffed them into her pocket. With all intention to brush past the doctor and escape, she was halted when T’Perro grabbed her arm. She stiffened, remembering the last time she was at the mercy of the ship’s doctor. It ended with her being sedated “for her own good”. That event had left a bitter taste in her mouth since. 

“Ryder,” Lexi said, her grip firm around Ryder’s arm. 

The Pathfinder’s eyes darted between the blue fingers wrapped around her arm and the doctor’s face. T’Perro’s hand jerked and withdrew as if burnt. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Is it your hand again?” she asked, this time her tone less lecturing, more exasperated. 

Childishly, Ryder put her hand behind her back. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not and you know that,” T’Perro said, “It’s been what? Three months? More? And it is still not completely healed?”

Ryder shook her head and palmed the door. It slid open. As she crossed the threshold, T’Perro went on, “You need to stop sparring, stop training, stop with the missions if you want it to heal properly. Stealing medi-gel for it isn’t going to be the solution.”

The Pathfinder quickened her pace and escaped. She returned to her room long enough to apply medi-gel and dressed the wound before finally pulling on her favourite pair of fingerless gloves on. 

They were docked at Prodromos. And Mayor Bradley had requested their aid. It was something or other about kett activity, the details were escaping her right that moment.

* * *

By the time the rest of the crew had woke up, Ryder had already got through her workout. She made sure to pay extra attention on her biotic training. That meant another shower and another change of dressing. Hidden under her glove, nobody was the wiser. 

“So, Ryder,” Kosta called out, “who is being tapped for the mission later?”

Before she could reply, B'Sayle interjected, “She is going to tap Drack for sure. She never run a mission without him.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that too,” Kosta replied. “I’m feeling more than a little neglected here, Ryder.”

She took a deep breath ready to reply when Brodie spoke up. “Don’t complain, Liam. At least you get to leave the Tempest. Unlike-"

“People!” she said, her voice carried across the cargo bay. 

Silence fell in its wake. She looked at Brodie, who quickly turned back to his work. She fought an urge to roll her eyes. _I need to find some fucking patience._

“Right, I’ll have to speak to Bradley to get the details, but from the request he had forwarded to us via Addison, kett activity is on the rise again. He wants us to look into things.”

Her eyes scanned the assembled. Harper was looking back, her gaze critical but she had stopped making snide comments like before. Maybe the entire Eos affair had a silver lining after all. Ryder couldn’t help but rub the wound with her hand. Kosta and B'Sayle seemed more interested in bantering than understanding what needed to be done. Nyx and Ama Darav had their arms folded across their chests, patiently waiting for her instructions. Finally her eyes stopped at Drack. The old krogan gave her a nod in greeting and she returned it. 

“So,” she said eventually, “Drack, Kosta, suit up. We’ll go and see Bradley and get the details. I’ll radio back if I think we need more for this particular mission.”

Without another word, Ryder went to put her armour on. In the background she could hear Kosta crowing his excitement. She let his words and the others’ response fade into white noise as she turned her combat mode on. 

* * *

Ryder kept the meeting short and to the point. She didn’t need idle chit chat and catching up. But things didn’t always go the way she wanted. It didn’t take long for the word to spread that the Pathfinder was in town and pretty soon she was fielding requests after requests. It was two hours more than she could stand. It didn’t help that Kosta made small talk every single one of the colonists. 

More than once, she was about to cut yet another petitioner’s plea short, she felt Drack’s hulking presence behind her. He wasn’t touching her, but she could feel a mild vibration from him. It was steadying to have him at her back. It was a new behaviour on his part, at first it irked her. She would growl, “I don’t need a babysitter!”

Drack levelled a glare at her, it was all sharp edges and hard surfaces, then it softened a fraction. “Kid, I am nobody’s babysitter. Babysitting Kesh was more than enough, you’re way worse than she was.”

They never spoke about it after that but Drack persisted in his new behaviour. It chaffed, it grated then it became normal. Ryder was standing on her own for a long time. Before Andromeda, before the being Pathfinder, before Eos. If she could admit it, she would say it was tiring. So when she felt Drack behind her, her agitation calmed a little. She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to let the meaningless pattering between the random colonist and Kosta wash over her. Finally, when Kosta was done. He looked at her, “So what’s next, Pathfinder?”

“You're done?” she asked.

His eyes darted to Drack, who shrugged at him, “Erm, yeah. Done.”

Ryder tapped on her omni-tool, “Tempest, come in.”

“Tempest, reading you loud and clear,” Jarth said, his voice coming in a little distorted from her omni-tool. 

“Tell Harper, B’Sayle and Ama Darav to suit up. I’ll be sending my orders over shortly. Nyx will have command of the Tempest till I get back,” she said. 

“Got it, Ryder,” he acknowledged. “Tempest out.”

While Kosta was socialising, she was formulating the plan in her head. She needed the most efficient manner to handle the requests. She would stay on Eos for as long as she needed to get the job done, but she wasn’t interested in dilly dallying. With another couple of taps, she forwarded her orders along with details given by the petitioners to Harper and the others. Harper was enough of a professional to get it done without her micromanaging. 

“Let’s get to the Nomad, Harper can borrow one from Bradley,” she said. “We have a kett outpost to investigate.”

* * *

“Drack,” she called, “you take lead. Take cover here.”

Her finger jabbed the map on her omni-tool and a navpoint appeared on it. A corresponding navpoint appeared on the others’ screen as well. The krogan nodded, pulling his shotgun from the holster. The shogun cranked with a satisfying crunching sound. 

“Kosta, you will go with Drack. I’ll cover both of you from the rear. Wait for my mark before engaging.”

He blinked at her. “You’re not using your biotics?” 

It was true, she liked being up close and personal. The pure tunnel vision she got in close combat couldn’t be matched when she used her sniper rifle. The roar of battle drowned out everything superfluous and distracting, all memories of the nightmare pushed to the back of her mind. All she had was the enemy and the mission objective. And that was what she needed. It helped some, but it didn’t exorcise everything. For now it has to be enough, she had a job to do. 

Ryder shook her head. She pulled her Black Widow from the magnetic holster and unfolded it in one smooth action. “No, I’m going back to the basics,” she said. “Now, go!”

They launched into action. She found herself a perch and settled down. It was between her, her scope and the target. 

* * *

It wasn’t so much a bang but more like a whistle. The round exited the barrel in a whoosh. It sliced through the air at supersonic speed and found its target. The impact broke bone, cartilage and vessels with ease. A clean round hole in the front and a fist sized one at the back. Sludge coloured blood splattered and sprayed, marking the ground. 

It was clean, it was clinical, it was text book. Ryder pulled the bolt and expelled the spent round and chambered a fresh one in a single smooth action. 

Inhale. The scope narrowed her world down to a single point. She hunted for her next target. The ridge of a Chosen’s head peeked out from the edge of cover. A grin made her lips twitched. 

Exhale. Her index finger of her left hand on the trigger, her right hand supporting the rifle. The crosshairs danced, and she squeezed. It was a tiny amount of force in the grand scheme of things but it translated into so much. The butt of her sniper rifle slammed against her shoulder. The impact was familiar and welcoming. But pain flared across her right hand. The rifle shifted. The shot clipped the cover instead.

_Fuck._

She ground her teeth as she reset, ignoring the lancing pain in her hand. She wouldn’t be caught off guard again. Putting eye to scope, she realised her target wasn’t there any longer. Instead she found Drack standing over her target, looking right at her. 

_Butt out, old man._

Drack and Kosta were doing a great job disrupting the kett defense, throwing them into disarray. That gave her plenty of targets to choose from. She didn’t need to give them instructions, Drack had the matter well in hand as long as Kosta followed his lead. 

Pain flashed across her hand, her right one, as the rifle jerked, another round finding a home in another kett. Her teeth gritted. She glanced down. Her glove was slowly turning damp and a little red even through the layers. She sighed and paid it no mind. There was nothing she could do right then, she had a mission to complete. 

“Ryder,” Drack called via the comms channel. 

“Yeah.”

“All clear,” he said. 

Well, that didn’t take very long. She was a little disappointed it was done so quickly but glad it was completed smoothly. _Maybe we’ll find some intel that leads to more outposts._

“Got it,” she replied. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

Ryder folded her rifle and leapt off the perch she found. With a combination of her biotics and jump jets, she reached the bottom faster than Drack or Kosta could. Reaching down to the pistol strapped to her thigh, she drew it. As much as they had cleared the place, it didn’t make sense to be foolhardy about things. 

Kosta and Drack were standing around at the foyer. There was a cluster of Chosen all dead right outside the door. One glance at the door told her why they were just standing around. The holo-lock was red. 

“SAM,” she called. 

“Yes Pathfinder,” SAM replied instantly, its artificial voice lacked the inflection of an organic species. It occasionally still sent chills down her spine. 

“Can you unlock the door?”

“One moment.”

Two humans and a krogan watched as the holo-lock cycled. It was almost the beginning of a bad joke. Ryder was grateful Kosta didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. She holstered her pistol and draw her shotgun instead. There was no telling if there were more kett inside. 

The holo-lock flickered between green and red before finally settling on green. Ryder glanced at the others. They got behind cover. She pressed herself against the frame of the door. Her shotgun held in her right hand, she gave the holo-lock a solid smack to activate its opening sequence. 

The unmistakable whine of an Anointed’s machine gun was all the warning she had. Ryder acted. She charged, her omni-blade extended. Blade met flesh, and the whine died, the machine gun fell from his hands. His hands pressed against his gut to stem the blood flow. She grinned and lifted her shotgun. Two booms and the kett fell dead. Drack and Kosta followed quickly. Less than two minutes later, every single kett on the outpost lay still on the ground. 

Drack clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Great fight, kid,” he said as she was wiping the gore from her helmet. “You always take me to nice places.”

She grinned, a rare moment of letting her guard down in public. “Happy to serve,” she replied as she pulled the helmet off. Hair was soaked with perspiration, it plastered itself across her forehead. 

Kosta’s eyes narrowed at the exchange. She stiffened as he opened his mouth. _No, please. Don’t speak._ It was a prayer in vain. “Ryder, good charge,” he commented a little awkwardly. 

She swallowed, irritation warring with not wanting to snap at every single damn thing. Before she could open her mouth Drack pulled Kosta’s arm. “Come on, let’s check over here,” he said. “I’m sure there is something useful.”

Drack gave her a wink over his shoulder as they left to investigate. She sighed. The tension leaving her body. Eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she promised to get a bottle of ryncol for him. _But that would mean I have to talk to Nyx._ She groaned inwardly. 

Instead, she focused her attention on the kett consoles inside. There must be something important here if the kett were defending this place. With omni-tool, Ryder started the tedious task of scanning every single damn thing that was inside. 

It was mind numbing work. Though this was just an outpost, not a large one by any means, it was large still enough Ryder was getting bored with waving her arm around. Then, SAM chimed in. “Pathfinder, that console is still active.”

She approached and tapped at the screen. It was completely gibberish. Holding up her omni-tool to get an active translation of Tonaizhet to Standard. Her eyes darted across the screen as she scanned the words. A frown was slowly tightening her brow. 

_Fuck._

“SAM, we need a way to bring this data back,” she said as she fished an OSD out of one of her utility pockets. “The Nexus needs to see this.”


	2. New Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is big, Ryder,” Nyx said, her mandibles fluttering anxiously. 
> 
> Ryder stared at the intel before her eyes, her breath caught in her throat. 
> 
> “Goddess,” Harper exhaled as she scanned the information. 
> 
> There were similar exclamations throughout the meeting room. Ama Darav’s reaction was the largest. He stood abruptly. The chair screeched against the floor. He started pacing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure if you know I’ve launched all three of my current WIPs. [The Persephone Arc](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17135813) is the first. The second is Shepard’s origin story, [The Lost Childhood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146034). And the third is this story, [Splinter Minds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146784), a continuation of Seo Kanori’s Sara Ryder. Each of these WIPs will be updated 3 weeks once. So week 1, The Persephone Arc, week 2 The Lost Childhood and week 3 Splintered Minds and so on. 
> 
> I’ve also posted a bunch of new stories. Namely my reserve MEBB story for Seo’s art - [Returning Ghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17371889). [The Replacement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17337218), my attempt of a fReyder one shot. [Face it Bravely](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17132252), a Vetra Nyx / Female Ryder gift fic. 
> 
> Cover art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori on Tumblr](http://seokanori.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> I’m running a giveaway on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/) now. Follow, like and reblog for a chance to win. [Details here](https://natsora.tumblr.com/post/182009309733/natsora-hello-friends-this-is-my-300-followers).
> 
> Mention of past rape in this chapter.

“Just let the doctor look at it,” Drack rumbled. 

Her hand was dripping in blood by the time they got back to the Tempest. Ryder didn’t deign to reply him. Her lips pressed into a thin line and that was answer enough. Kosta had his armour and weapons stowed away and was off to relax in the showers. How she wished she could do the same, she desperately wanted to rid herself of the grime of battle. 

“Kid.”

Ryder stopped dead in her tracks. She was still holding the OSD in her hand, blood was slowly trickling off one corner. She wasn’t worried, a little blood never hurt an OSD. “You’re worse than an old woman you know?” she blurted. 

Drack met her gaze head on, unimpressed. “You’re slipping,” he retorted, tossing it on the ground between them like an insult. Ryder bristled, exactly the reaction the krogan was looking for. “Before it was only the stink of medi-gel and blood, now it's negligence. You're better than this.”

Her mouth twisted. Drack wasn't wrong. “Fine, you win.”

“I always do, kid.”

* * *

She remembered the aftermath of the mission that went to hell. She never asked how long she was held captive. What was the point? She got herself free, she needed nobody's help in the end. Her physical injuries were a matter of record but at least she got T’Perro to leave the rape out. She didn't need Tann or the Nexus Leadership questioning her mental ability to handle missions with turians or krogans just because of-

Her mind shied away from the rest of the thought. _This doesn't change my ability to complete the mission._

“The point of the report is to be comprehensive. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” T’Perro said, levelling her blue eyes at Ryder. “They raped you. This is a fact. It has to go into the report.”

“Why?” Ryder asked, dark circles under her eyes. Her skin greyish and paler than it usually was. “Why must it be? This is a private matter. Putting it into the report just meant everyone gets to read about it and have an opinion. I'm a professional, this doesn't affect my ability to get things done.”

 _Does it?_ Ryder’s irritation flared. It was one thing for others to second guess her, it was another that she was doing it to herself. She shook her head and dismissed the thought. _I work fine with Drack and Nyx. This changes nothing. This is just a thing that has been done to me. And I've fixed it. It's over._

Drack grunted. It was neither approval nor disapproval. Ryder shot him a look, fully expecting him to have her back on this. T’Perro pursed her lips and frowned. There was no answer forthcoming. 

The silence hung in the air. Ryder paced, wishing she could get T’Perro to agree so she could get out of the med-bay. She never liked being in the med-bay, but after that overstep by T'Perro she absolutely loathed to be in there. 

“But this might affect your judgement when it comes to turians and krogan because-"

“Lexi, that’s unfair,” Drack spoke up. 

_Finally._

“She and I obviously have no problems. She hadn’t gone on a killing spree against all krogans and turians on the Tempest,” Drack pointed out. “And she is not going to. Are you, kid?”

Drack’s yellow eyes met hers. As different as his predator eyes looked from hers, she found more kinship in his than in anyone else’s. _Well, besides Scott’s_ “No, I do not intend to go on a killing spree,” she replied wearily, her hand rubbing the grit from her eyes. 

Ryder was still sore. Even though she was sedated for days, it wasn’t truly rest. She was just turned off like a light,  her flesh was tired, her skin heavy, her bones lead. She exhaled, her breath long, loud and exhausted. “Look, all I want is a little privacy. State the injuries if you really want. Make it vague if you must. All I’m asking for is a little dignity,” she said. 

T'Perro looked at her. Ryder couldn’t quite read her expression. She didn’t care to. There must be something in her voice, something foreign. Maybe she sounded like she was begging, maybe she was pleading. Ryder wasn’t sure. Her back pressed against the wall and her head bowed. She knew she was utterly and completely drained. 

The doctor blinked and her rigid shoulders relaxed a little. “All right, Ryder,” she said, “I will leave it out.”

She lifted her head in surprise, she had expected T’Perro to put up a fight, to throw standard operating procedure in her face. It must have shown. “I’m not without sympathy, Ryder. Though I have to let you know officially, I really do not think this is a good idea,” she said. 

“Noted,” Ryder replied, straightening, “with thanks.”

* * *

T’Perro glared at her. The blue asari skin was in sharp contrast against her own olive one. The doctor sighed. It was part disgust, part exasperation, part resignation. She pulled a pair of small scissors ready to snip the bloodstained glove off Ryder’s hand. 

“No,” Ryder said as she pulled her hand back.  

Before the doctor could say another word, she pulled the glove gingerly off. The tightening crease across her brow was the only indication of pain. T’Perro’s lips pressed tight in disapproval. Eventually the glove came off revealing the once pristine bandage, now red. 

The asari cast a critical eye on her hand. Ryder didn’t withdraw her hand when the scissors came again. It made quick work of her soiled bandages. T’Perro hissed when she saw the reopened wound. 

“Ryder-"

“I know,” she interjected quickly to head off the same lecture she had gotten many times before. “I don’t need a refresher.”

Blue eyes glared at her. “Then take better care of yourself,” she spat impatiently. “I do not enjoy having to nag at you.”

Ryder swallowed the first response that came to her mind. She would rather everyone left her alone to work in peace, but T’Perro wasn’t wrong. The wound was affecting her work performance. Still, pride didn’t allow her to say so, instead she grunted. It was neither admission nor rejection. 

“SAM, patch me through to Jath,” she said instead. 

“Patching you through,” SAM replied. 

“Ryder, what’s up? We have a destination?” Jath’s slightly nasally voice came through. 

“When Harper’s team is back, take us to the Nexus.”

“Will do, Pathfinder,” he replied.

Ryder felt water ran over her hand, it stung but she forced her hand to be still. Clean water gently washing the dried, crusted blood away. “Most people do not enjoy watching,” T’Perro said, her eyes still trained on her work.

She grunted again. _I am not most people._

The doctor ripped a pack of antiseptic and poured it over the wound. Ryder hissed and her hand jerked in response. “Fuck,” she spat. 

T’Perro’s actions were quick and efficient. She dabbed the excess away before spreading a thick coat of medi-gel over. Soon, the medi-gel worked its magic to numb the pain. “What did you find down there?” she asked.

Ryder’s first instinct was to shut the conversation down, but she needed something to take her mind off her throbbing hand. “Kett intel, mostly encrypted. We will need time to work on it but probably nothing good.”

Fresh bandages emerged from the packaging. Cool hands secured it over the wound. “Nyx is on the job now,” she continued.

T’Perro hummed, indicating she was still listening. “This is a waterproof dressing, so you can shower without problems. I need you to change the dressing often and continue wearing your gloves-"

Ryder stood. “I know,” she said as she pocketed the dirty glove. “And thanks.”

* * *

“This is big, Ryder,” Nyx said, her mandibles fluttering anxiously. 

Ryder stared at the intel before her eyes, her breath caught in her throat. 

“Goddess,” Harper exhaled as she scanned the information. 

There were similar exclamations throughout the meeting room. Ama Darav’s reaction was the largest. He stood abruptly. The chair screeched against the floor. He started pacing. Ryder tracked his movements, wondering if she should have limited the information to just Nyx and Harper. 

_What’s done is done._

Visible sparks of bio-electricity swirled around his rofjinn, it looked almost like a biotic flare. We must inform the Moshae, Ryder,” he said. 

She blinked, her focus snapping back to Ama Darav. “Yes, I know.”

The translated intel hovered on her omni-tool. It was the blueprint of what looked eerily similar to the kett temple on Voeld, the one that where the Moshae was held captive. “Ama Darav, calm yourself,” she said. 

Her words halted him in his tracks. He turned to her, fear clear in his eyes. “But my people,” he said, his voice breaking at the last word. 

“I understand,” Ryder replied, placed a hand on his shoulder but jerking it away quickly. She wasn’t without sympathy. She wasn’t made of stone. “But this is a blueprint, it might not have been built yet. We may have caught this early.”

Her words rang hollow to her ears, but she needed all of them sharp. Ama Darav’s deep blue eyes caught hers, his gaze steadier now. 

Turning to Nyx, she asked, “How far along we are on the decryption?”

“I’m barely 10% through,” she replied. 

Ryder nodded. “Ama Darav, if you can give Nyx a hand. I want to know what I have to work with when I meet with the Nexus Leadership,” she said. “Dismissed.”

The others nodded and filed out, but Harper remained seated. Ryder paid her second no mind. But as she walked passed, Harper called out. She stopped and turned. Harper was standing and looking right at her. 

Even months later, Ryder's anger towards Harper's actions hadn't dissipated. Truthfully, she didn't think it ever would go away. She knew why Eos happened. She could trace everything back to Harper directly disobeying her orders. All she had to do was to look at her right hand and be reminded of the consequences. As much as Ryder wanted to divorce emotions from her interaction with Harper, it was impossible after everything. 

_But I am a professional. I can separate work from personal._

She waited, allowing Harper to fill the silence. The other woman stiffened as their eyes met, blue meeting blue. “Will we have time for shore leave while we’re on the Nexus?” she asked. 

Ryder raised a single eyebrow. That question was unexpected. “Sure, you all will have at least a day. Just make sure the Tempest is resupplied,” she said. 

Harper nodded. With nothing holding her back, Ryder left. 

* * *

Shadows splitting, surrounding. Nails, so many of them. They were sharp, their points glinted in the dark. Breaths came hot, quick and gasping. Down it came, again and again. Pain ripping, lancing and tearing. 

Her breath rushed out of her in a choke. She heaved gulps of air into her lungs. Eyes blinking but not quite focusing.  

“Sara.”

Ryder looked up, her vision finally clearing. A pair of familiar eyes stared back at her, concern and worry clouded it. She blinked. 

“Scott,” she forced pass her lips, straightening. “Shit, sorry, I fell asleep.”

“Are you ok?” 

She stiffened and stood from the bench she had fallen asleep on, pulling her hair back into a more presentable ponytail. “I’m fine.” The familiar refrain was out of her mouth before she could drag thought from brain. 

Scott looked at her. Dressed in the standard Initiative uniform of white and blue paired with a pair of black pants, he looked well. No longer the pale, sallow version of himself, trapped in a coma thanks to the Scourge. He finally was himself again. “I’m fine, really,” she repeated, straightening her clothes, this time meaning it. The fog of the nightmare clearing from her mind. 

Last night was another sleepless one, she was plagued by more of the same. And it was no longer unexpected, it had been months since she slept the night through without some heavy drinking. Ryder shook her head inwardly. _This is no different being on the field. I’ve survived those missions, I’ll survive this._

“You look good, Scott,” she said, tugging her reluctant lips into a faint smile. Her face felt stiff.

They were never a pair of touchy siblings, but even without physical contact, just seeing Scott unlocked something in her. Her chest eased a notch as Scott returned the smile. A knot deep within her relaxed, just a little. She took a steadying breath with her hands shoved into her pockets as he eyed her closely. He clearly didn’t believe a word she said. 

Ryder let a shaky laugh out. “Yeah, maybe not completely ok,” she confessed. 

“I know, I know.” Scott said as he reached out to touch her face. 

Ryder shied away from the touch. “Don’t do that, you know how I hate it.”

And he was the only one she told the entire thing to. The crew knew because they saw it, the shape she was in as she walked back onto the Tempest. She knew about her collapse in the showers and subsequent forced sedation in the med-bay. Scott knew because she told him. And she left no details out. It was a purge for her, letting all the anger and emotions out to the only kin she had left in Andromeda. He was her other half. She trusted Scott implicitly, with her secrets, her fears and her life. 

Scott just chuckled and dropped his hand. He whispered, “You will get through this. You’re strong.”

Before she could reply, Tann called out, “Ryder!”

With great difficulty, she swallowed the sigh. Instead, she cleared her throat and greeted. “Director.”

“What is the emergency about?” he asked. 

“I’ll brief you once everyone has arrived. It makes no sense to repeat myself,” she said. 

* * *

“This is a critical matter,” the Moshae said after having the time to digest the intel. “The implications are far-reaching.”

Ryder leaned forward as words fired back and forth between Tann, Addison and the Moshae. The longer she sat, the more agitated she became. They were all slinging words, and no decision was being made. Kandros glanced and caught her eye. His mandibles flared in sympathy. Kesh, on the other hand, had no such compunction, she flat out rolled her eyes. Ryder snorted, her only concession to the shit show she was watching. 

She had been too tense for too long. She needed a release and soon. _Fuck, I should have gone to Meridian instead._

Scott brushed his hand over hers, pulling her attention away from the sudden tightening of her core. Reining in her thoughts of dark skin sliding under her olive one, she turned to her brother.

“Look at this,” he said, stabbing a finger at the datapad. “This facility, if it exists, requires a massive energy draw. It won’t be unnoticeable. We could scan for a high energy draw. One as large as this facility requires won't go unnoticed.”

She nodded. This was exactly why she roped Scott into this. He was good at finding patterns when she couldn’t see them. Ryder knew she was an arrow, to be loose on a mission. Scott was built differently despite sharing a womb and a pair of non-parents between them. 

“And why are you here, Scott Ryder?” Tann asked, jarring Ryder from her musing. 

_Shit, I’m slipping._

“I asked him to be here,” she explained, leaning her elbows on the table.

The Moshae steepled her fingers and waited. Ryder nodded at her brother. Scott stood and sketched out how he thought they could locate this still theoretical new kett temple. 

By the time she stepped out of the meeting, it was four hours later. But it was with solid follow-up actions. “Pathfinder Ryder, you’re tasked to confirm if this kett temple exists and locate it if it does,” Tann said pompously, his slender body towered over her. 

“I can’t do this by myself. We have Anwar on board but this is more work than one person could possibly do,” she said. "I’ll need Scott with me on this."

“Take Scott with you,” Tann said as if it was his idea. “Just clear it with the Nexus science team."

Ryder nodded and sighed inwardly. _Can't he handle the administrative work if he wants to take the credit?_ She stretched as she stepped out of the room, and her spine popped alarmingly. It felt satisfying. 

“Sara, you got to take care of yourself,” Scott said. 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she retorted with a snort. “Come on, let’s talk to your bosses and then we’ll go grab a couple of drinks at the Vortex.”

Scott chuckled. “There is no such thing as _a couple of drinks_ where Sara Ryder is concerned.”

She punched him in the arm. “You know me too well.”

* * *

“Hey Ryder, you're free to find some interesting ingredients in exchange for booze?” T'Mari, the asari bartender that works in Vortex asked. 

Ryder frowned. “Stop asking already. I’m a fucking customer and I am not your lackey.”

“Don’t mind her, she is a little drunk,” Scott interjected before she could say more. He tugged at her arm, but she refused to budge. 

“I’m not drunk. Since when two glasses of anything does it for me,” she retorted pulling her arm out of his grip. 

Scott made placating gestures behind her as she faced the counter. “Hey, your customer needs another refill,” she said, tapping her glass on the counter. 

T’Mari’s lips curled before turning to her partner. “Get our dear Pathfinder a drink,” she spat. 

Then a bright blue drink slid over. Dutch Smith, the other bartender, said,  "Have a Rotten Scoundrel.”

“What did you say?” 

“Ahh, thank you for the drink,” Scott tapped his omni-tool. “There I’ve paid for it.”

With a quick swipe of his hand, he took the glass in one hand, and put an arm around Ryder’s shoulders. He steered her towards a corner booth. 

“Don’t make life difficult for me. I still live and work on the Nexus. I can't just fly off to drink somewhere else if someone pisses me off,” he said as Ryder sank into the cushy booth seats. 

The moment she sat down, her bones felt like lead. She _was_ tired. Grumpily, she snatched the drink out of his hand and gulped. The alcohol tasted overwhelmingly fruity and sickeningly sweet. Her frown across her brow was instantaneous. “What the fuck?” she spat. “Ugh!”

With a look of disgust, Ryder pushed the glass away. Scott scooped it up and took a tentative sip. His face brightened at the taste. “I like it,” he said, smirking. 

She just rolled her eyes. “How have you-"

“Pathfinder Ryder!” a voice cut in. 

She jerked her head around to see who was calling. Her eyes found yet another asari. It was T’Vessa. Yet another person who wanted a piece of her every single time she stepped onto the Nexus. Ryder sighed and her eyes darted to the exit. It was too far away, and she wanted to spend time with Scott. Once on board the Tempest it would be all work and being professional. Here, they could just be themselves and relax a little. 

“She’s cute,” Scott said, jerking his chin at T’Vessa. “Introduce me?”

“Really?” Ryder cocked her head at him. “You need help with girls, since when?”

“I need a wingman from time to time too,” he protested. 

Ryder just snorted, turning her attention back to T’Vessa. _Fuck, I hope I can get rid of her quick._ “What do you want?” she asked, deadpanned. 

“Do you have any comments regarding the Nexus' most terrible murder yet?” T’Vessa asked. 

She blinked blankly at the asari. _Murder? What murder?_ “Look T’Vessa, I’ve been flying around on the Tempest for the past month non-fucking-stop. I don’t know what the hell is going on the Nexus. Let alone having any kind of comments about them.”

“Gruesome killing, body cut up, blood splattered everywhere,” T’Vessa forged on. “I'm calling him the Cutter.”

“Really? How imaginative," she replied wryly, wishing she had a proper beverage in front of her. "And this is all the rage on the Nexus?"

“Well, it is all the boards talk about,” the asari said. 

“Yes, the extranet, where invaluable information resides."

“Why did they think it is a him? Has Kandros confirmed this?” Scott interrupted as he sat straighter. 

T’Vessa brightened up at his attention. _See, what fucking help do you really need to get girls?_

“Oh, nothing is confirmed. But that’s the working theory, unless it is someone with biotics and a propensity to use their blade.”

“This is interesting. The first proper mystery in Andromeda,” Scott said, his lips parted in a predatory grin. 

Trust Scott to see the intellectual challenge in this. Ryder was tired of questions. Seeing Scott fired questions back and forth with T’Vessa, it was clear she was no longer needed here. “Hey, Scott,” she called over the music, “I’ll come meet you tomorrow. I’ll need to pick up some things before we leave the Nexus.”

He snorted. “I do know where the Tempest is docked.”

“I know but can’t I come see how my brother has been living since you were assigned to the Nexus Science Team? Meet you for lunch tomorrow?”

“Ahhh…” Scott hesitated. 

“You have a lunch date lined up already,” she said, eyes flat, levelled at her brother. “And you think you truly need _me_ to help you with girls? Fine, after your date then. Where should I meet you?”

Scott tapped on his omni-tool and sent her the address. She stood, wavering slightly on her legs. He pushed T’Vessa out of the way and reached out to steady her. She waved him off. “Maybe I am a little drunk. But I’ll get back fine. It’s the Nexus. What danger can there possibly be?”

“We do have a killer on the loose,” T’Vessa reminded her unhelpfully. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	3. All Aboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They weaved their way through the crowd. Scott having more problems than her, his bag hitting people left and right. There were more people on the Nexus now that the business with the Archon had been settled. People were being released from cryo to settle in the outposts she founded. It wasn’t all bad. Despite the pain, the struggle, the utter anger at their father saddling her with being Pathfinder, it turned out all right, didn’t it?
> 
> “I did my job right?” she blurted suddenly. 
> 
> Scott stopped her. There were more than a few curses hurled in their direction. She pulled her lips up into a growl and suddenly nobody else had any complaints. “Sara,” he said, his hand raising up towards her face. 
> 
> She jerked away. “Don’t.”
> 
> He pulled his hand back and held his bag with two hands instead. “We won’t have made it this far if you hadn’t done a good job. You did good. Maybe our father would even agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late release today. My dog wasn't doing so well so I had to take care of that last night. I just managed to get this chapter edited just now. I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori on Tumblr](http://seokanori.tumblr.com/)!

Ryder tapped her feet. She leaned against the railing outside the cafe. 

_He is fucking late._

Glancing at her omni-tool, she wondered if she should have done her errands first.  Her eyes drifted over to the patrons. All of them enjoying the artificial sun of the Nexus. Their utensils clinking and clanking. Their mouths opening and closing, yakking away inanely. All of them had not a care in the world. Meridian was found, they had a golden world, and all is well in Andromeda. Ryder snorted, an almost irrational anger rising from her chest. 

_They don’t know how everything is just a house of cards that could come crumbling down so easily._

She clenched her right hand. The pain jarred her from her thoughts. She exhaled long and loud, pushing the thoughts away. She didn’t come to get pissed off. Her intention was to meet Scott, spend some time with her brother before diving headlong into the new mission. A new kett temple was worrying. Not knowing its location or if it even existed was doubly so. 

Her finger tapped at her omni-tool to bring up the chronometer again. He was more than 15 minutes late. This was just fucking unacceptable. Just as she wanted to head off to restock her supplies, Scott walked out. And he wasn’t alone. On his arm was a familiar face - Cora Harper, second to the human Pathfinder. 

Ryder’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowed. _When the fuck did this happen? Are they dating?_  

She straightened and approached. “Harper,” she greeted, her tone was ice, her eyes only for her brother.

“Ryder,” came the equally frosty reply. 

Scott grinned and patted Harper’s hand. “I had a lovely lunch. Can I come see you later? On the Tempest?” 

Harper laughed. It was a foreign sound to Ryder’s ears. She had never heard it before, not on any mission, not during down time, not while she was in ear shot. And now Harper was laughing for Scott. Ryder wouldn’t say she was angry, but somehow it pissed her off seeing Harper with Scott. It felt like a betrayal of sorts on Scott’s part. 

“Of course, Scott,” she replied easily. “You can see me anytime now that you’re on the Tempest.”

_Is this why Harper asked about shore leave? For a date with Scott?_

Harper glanced at Ryder for a moment. Ryder could feel the vein at her temple throbbing, hard and insistently. “So shall we go?” Scott asked as he turned to his sister after planting a kiss on Harper’s cheek. 

Ryder kept her eye on Harper as she departed. “Did she smirk at me?” she asked, her voice tight, the crease across her brow near permanent. “Did she really fucking smirk at me?”

Scott shook his head and chuckled as if it was all a big joke. “Come on, you’re just imagining it, I’m sure.”

With one hand on her shoulder, he steered her away from staring a hole into Harper’s receding back. 

* * *

“So what do you think?” Scott asked as he waved his hand at his tiny apartment with a flourish. 

Ryder took in the place. Most of the furnishing were the standard pre-fabricated ones that came stock with Nexus apartments. Even if Scott was twin to the human Pathfinder, he was single so he wouldn’t warrant an apartment larger than this. If he had stayed on Meridian, he would be able to use their father’s quarters. 

“It looks like a hamster’s cage,” she replied. Her personal quarters on the Tempest was larger.

Scott made a face. “Fine, be that way. Give me a minute to get my stuff,” he said. “Meanwhile, just make yourself at home.”

Ryder waved him off as she entered the apartment proper. Scott disappeared behind a closed door. The all in one room which functions as a living room, dining room and kitchen was mostly neat and tidy. She recognised the same almost military level of neatness in her own quarters. It was a habit hammered into them living with Alec Ryder. 

_Now that’s a person I’ve not thought about in a while._

There weren’t many personal touches in Scott’s apartment apart from the rather odd-looking scarf on his sofa. It was red and silky. Ryder shook her head. She had no idea if it belonged to Harper, but she would bet credits that it didn’t. 

_Scott, you fucking womaniser._

There were shelves and shelves of datapads. Ryder pulled one off and glanced at the screen. “The Human Anatomy.” She slid it back and tried another one. “The History of AI.” With a sigh, she put that one back too. Scott’s tastes ran way too intellectual for her tastes. 

“Scott, are you done?” she shouted. 

“Almost!” came the muffled reply. 

She plopped down on the sofa and leaned back. Her hand still stung a little, but with frequent dressing changes and medi-gel application, it felt better in weeks. _Maybe it will heal properly this time._ She stretched her legs out on the coffee table and sighed happily. It was nice and clear of datapads and paper, unlike someone else’s table. Closing her eyes, she could almost smell his musk, feel his breath on her ear, his hand down her-

“Sara,” Scott called. 

Her eyes snapped open and glared at Scott. “You’re done?” 

“Yeah,” he said, holding a packed duffle bag in his hand. 

“What about this?” she asked, picking up the red scarf. “You’re going to return it to your _other_ girlfriend?”

He snorted and grinned, shaking his head. “Nah, she doesn’t need it anymore.”

Ryder headed to drop the scarf into the recycler in the apartment, but Scott said, “Let’s trash it outside? We’re heading out anyway. I don’t want to leave trash here. Who knows when I’ll be back again. Looking at how often you went home, I figure it will be months before I’ll come back.”

She shrugged. “And where exactly is home for me, huh?”

Standing with the scarf in her hand, feeling a little awkward as she watched the holo-lock cycled red. Scott shouldered his heavy duffle and nodded at her. They walked through the Nexus with the scarf in her hand, ordering her supplies. They were mostly ration bars.

"These again?" Scott asked, scowling at the ration bars. 

"I'm not asking you to eat them. These are my personal stash."

Ryder shook her head and entered the order into the kiosk. The salarian in charge of the shop smiled. "Thank you for shopping with us, Pathfinder. We will deliver these to the Tempest shortly."

She never enjoyed the ones that the Initiative issued. Technically they tasted better, but Ryder had gotten used to the ones she always had when she was with the Alliance. Yeah, sure they tasted like old cardboard left out in the open next to a garbage heap on a warm day, but it was what she was used to. _I must thank Nyx for the contact._

"It's an acquired taste," she said. 

"Acquired all right, only you can stomach them."

“Come on, we’re done here,” she said as they towards the docking bay. 

She realised she was still holding onto the scarf. And she spotted a recycler and dumped it in. “You really have to stop with your one-night stands,” she said. 

“You’re one to talk. You’re the one always fucking men around,” Scott retorted before sobering up. The memory of what happened on Eos stark across his feature. “Sorry.”

Ryder shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

They weaved their way through the crowd. Scott having more problems than her, his bag hitting people left and right. There were more people on the Nexus now that the business with the Archon had been settled. People were being released from cryo to settle in the outposts she founded. It wasn’t all bad. Despite the pain, the struggle, the utter anger at their father saddling her with being Pathfinder, it turned out all right, didn’t it?

“I did my job right?” she blurted suddenly. 

Scott stopped her. There were more than a few curses hurled in their direction. She pulled her lips up into a growl and suddenly nobody else had any complaints. “Sara,” he said, his hand raising up towards her face. 

She jerked away. “Don’t.”

He pulled his hand back and held his bag with two hands instead. “We won’t have made it this far if you hadn’t done a good job. You did good. Maybe our father would even agree.”

The idea their father, sir as they were told to address him when they were older, would think she was worthy of praise was laughable. She chuckled. “If you say so.”

As Ryder walked the ramp back onto the Tempest, the joviality from earlier gone, her shoulders stiffened, her back straightened. There was no off duty mode for the Pathfinder. 

* * *

“So you’re saying we have to go from planet to planet scanning?” Ama Darav asked, his grip on the table tightened. Ryder could hear the creak of his leather gloves. “That will take too long!”

Ama Darav jerked his head in her direction. “Ryder, you know what this means to me, to us the angaras. This is another kett temple, another means to exalt more of my people!”

“That’s unfair, Jaal!” Nyx spoke up, her talons slicing the air. 

“We know what this means for you but-" B’Sayle chimed in. 

Kosta waved his arms about. “Guys, can’t we all just calm down?”

Ryder could hear Drack rumbling unhappily next to her. She stood up, slamming a palm on the table to get everyone’s attention. “People,” she yelled. 

All eyes turned to her. She pushed the sleeves of her Initiative uniform up to her elbows. “Ama Darav, I hear you. I understand your concerns. But this is the best we have now.”

He stood, drawing up to his full height. The angara easily towered over her. But she wasn’t backing down. Tension was tight across Ama Darav’s shoulders. He opened his mouth to say something, but he snapped it shut again. Exhaling, he turned away and started pacing.

“We have Scott and Anwar working on this here. We have the best minds of the Nexus science team working on the intel we got from the outpost. More data is still being decrypted. There will be actionable intel soon. The Moshae took a copy of what we found, she has her people working on it too,” she said, pulling her hands behind her back. “Yes this is time consuming, but this is better than not doing anything right?”

The usually jovial and calm angara took a shuddering breath as his feet stilled. He sank back into his chair as if deflated. “You’re right,” he exhaled. “I’m sorry for taking out my anxiety on you.”

She huffed silently before turning back to the others. “Anwar, Scott, you’re in charge of the orbital scanning. If there is anything remotely suspicious, we will take the Tempest down and do it on the ground.”

“Got it, Ryder,” Anwar replied. 

Scott nodded. 

Harper cleared her throat. “Now that’s settled, what about the sleeping arrangements?” she asked. 

Ryder narrowed her eyes. “Scott can bunk in with the rest in the sleeping quarters. It’s only Anwar, Jarth, Nyx and Drack who use the space anyway,” she replied. 

“Oh.” Her second in command looked disappointed. 

Scott shot her a look and Ryder rolled her eyes at him. “Will that be a problem Scott?” she asked curtly, her eyes trained on Harper. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he replied, somehow she could feel him smirking in her direction. “But I need a space to work.”

“If you don’t mind, the bio-lab is spacious enough for two.” Harper interjected. 

_And there it is._

The mild tightening that ran from the crown to the back of her head earlier was fast turning into a full on headache. It felt like a vice clamped around her skull. She closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled. There was no reason to object. There was no reason to get pissed off. But here she was, overwhelmed with the urge to object and already irritable. 

Ryder scratched at her eyebrow. The aftermath of Eos weighed on her mind. She didn’t address Harper’s conduct during the mission. That was leaving out the lack of a rescue in the first place. She was in no shape to deal with it when it mattered. Then when she was mostly recovered, too much time had passed. Harper had picked up the slack during that time. She ran the Tempest and the missions. Things were done and time just slipped through her fingers. It wasn’t something that was stuck in her caw really, but it never sat well with her not having confronted Harper about it. But it was too late now. It would make her look so damn petty. Ryder was nothing if not practical. 

“It doesn’t matter where you work as long as you do, Scott.”

Ryder had to look away when Harper flashed Scott a demure smile. _If this gets any sweeter, I’ll gag._

* * *

_Smack, thump, smack._

Ryder pounded the punching bag, again and again, relentlessly. The punching bag was her headache personified. Music blared in her ears. Words washed over her. 

She was flowing.

_Part of me won't let me quit  
Won't let me just not say shit_

Her lungs heaved and sweat poured from her brow. The beat thumped against her soul. Her feet glided like smoke, dancing in and out. 

_So much is there to be bored with  
Can't be still, I can't afford it_

Her ponytail was a limp, sad affair. Her skin beaded with perspiration despite the chill in the air. Her blows got faster and sharper. 

“Ryder!”

She hissed as Kosta stepped within range of her punches. “Fuck Kosta, that was stupid,” she yelled, pulling the ear buds out.

Ryder turned to see the others staring back at her. Brodie leaning against the Nomad, Nyx craning her neck from her little corner and B’Sayle glancing up from the little scrap pile of Remnant tech they picked up at the asari's insistence. 

“What?”

Kosta pointed to her hand then the punching bag. “Your hand.”

It took looking at her hand for the pain to register. The wound was open again. _Fuck._ “Right, thanks,” she sighed as she snatched her towel off the ground and wiped it over her face. 

They were all still watching. She sighed and gave them all a flat stare. “Show’s over, people,” she declared. 

They turned back to their work quickly, but Kosta lingered. His mouth opened and closed mindlessly like a fish. Ryder raised an enquiring eyebrow at him. His teeth clacked together as he closed his mouth, properly this time. She rolled her shoulders and straightened. Towel in hand, she turned back to clean the mess up. Her headache was worse than ever. 

The Tempest was in transit. There was nothing really to do even if they were scanning from orbit. And it chafed. Nyx and Ama Darav were trying to decrypt the kett data cache, Jarth was busy flying the ship, Brodie with near constant upgrades and tinkering with the Tempest and the Nomad. T’Perro was happy studying kett biology and the exaltation process in her spare time. Even B’Sayle was busy upgrading Poc. Kosta… Ryder’s thoughts screeched to a halt at that point. What did Kosta do in his downtime? Socialising, that must be it. 

She was the only one that had nothing to do. Her skills with tech wasn’t good enough to help with the decryption. Her mechanical skills were honed during her time in the Alliance, but it was for field repairs. And with Brodie constantly tuning and adjusting the Nomad, there was nothing else she needed to do. She could only mod and clean her weapons and armour so many times before it felt stupid. On the Tempest, she felt like a third leg, redundant and in the way. If she couldn’t train, or spar, she would have gone crazy. 

Even with Scott on board, she could hardly feel his presence. She seen him around the Tempest often enough, but he barely had time more than a nod and a greeting. Mealtimes were the only time she could talk to him. 

“So how is it going?” she asked as she chewed on her ration bar. 

“It is going all right.” He slid into the bench next to her with a hurriedly made sandwich in his hand. His fingers scratched at the stubble on his cheeks. “But where to, I have no real idea. We are all working off a hypothesis that isn’t even proven true yet.”

“But this is something right?” 

Before Scott could reply, his omni-tool beeped. “Sorry, I got to go. The computer just finished its analysis,” he explained. 

Ryder waved a hand, dismissing her brother to his work. And that was the sum total of their interaction for the entire week he was on board. If Scott wasn’t discussing the results of their scans with Anwar, the Nexus and angara teams, he was holed up in the bio-lab with Harper, working. At least, she hoped it was work that was keeping him busy. 

_Fuck and that’s what Harper must be busy with. Maybe. No, I’m not going there._

She dragged her mind away from the other extracurricular activities that might be going on. But it just put a focus on her own lack of extracurricular activities. 

_Why is Meridian so far?_

Wet tongue teasing her lips, feather light fingers brushing her sensitive parts, breathless moans whispered into her ear. She let out a growl. The silence in the cargo bay was heavy in the wake of that. These memories were just driving herself mad. 

“I should have gotten this settled back on the Nexus,” she muttered under her breath as she walked into her room. “A rough quick bang would have sorted me out more easily than that prickly bastard could.”

As soon as she put thought to words, the idea repulsed her. Ryder hadn’t had anyone since the Eos incident. Initially, she wasn't physically unable to. Then, she barely wanted any. Work was all she allowed to occupy her mind. All the while her nights were plagued by a replay of her ordeal. When she came up for air, it was months later. And the idea of having a stranger seeing and touching her felt revolting. 

She wanted someone familiar, someone she trusted. She needed it. A flash of dark skin and silver stubble ran across her mind. Ryder groaned in frustration. 

_I guess, we do need to scan Meridian as well…_

She headed to the showers with a fresh set of clothes in her hand. It wasn’t empty. Harper was showering as well. That wasn’t going to stop Ryder from getting clean. 

“Ryder,” Harper greeted. 

She grunted in reply. The water hit her face and ran down her hair as she stepped into the stream. For a while, she tuned out the fact she wasn’t alone. Her hands worked soap over skin. Fingers tracing the scars she had collected through her short life. Some from her days of running wild on the Citadel, some from her days with the Alliance and some after arriving in Andromeda. 

Ryder stiffened when she realised Harper was starring. “What’s the problem?”

“Your hand,” she said, pointing. 

It was bleeding. It needed more medi-gel again. “It hasn’t healed?” Harper asked, her voice hushed. 

Ryder couldn’t detect a shred of guilt in her voice, but she was biased, probably. “No,” her voice low and flat. 

She wanted a shower not whatever this was. “But it has been months,” Harper went on. 

Apparently her fascination over Ryder’s never quite healed wound overrode whatever stiff and formal protocol they had for interaction. One of Ryder's shoulder rose and fall in a shrug. “I know,” she said. 

She pushed her hair sleek back over her head and turned the shower off despite her usual panache to stay under running water for as long as she was allowed to. She had her head in her towel as she ran the fabric roughly over her hair, trying to dry off. 

“Maybe you should take a break from the training and missions till it heals,” Harper went on. 

That made her stop. Her blue eyes met Harper’s. “That’s what you want to say?” she asked. “Not anything else?”

Harper drew herself up. Their height were similar. Where the asari commando was pale and milky white, Ryder was dark and almost bronze. Where Harper was all sharp definitions and curves from years of close combat, Ryder had the wiry muscles of sniper built for endurance. 

Ryder had her hands loose by her side. She wasn’t really angry, just a low grade of pissed off that seemed to be her default when it came to interacting with her second in command. Harper angled her body away from her. She could see the play of muscles under the commando's skin. 

The air seemed to crackle between them. “Yes, that’s all,” Harper replied, her posture stiff and defensive. 

Ryder caught the slight shimmer of a flare that ran up Harper’s arms. _And this is why I don’t trust you to watch my back. You never had my back before._ She snorted and walked out of the showers naked, her towel on her shoulder. 

Kosta yelped when he saw Ryder. “I didn’t see anything, I didn’t see anything,” he muttered, shielding his eyes with his hand. 

The Pathfinder bit back her sigh. _Why do I feel I am surrounded by a bunch of idiots?_

**Lyrics taken from[Gifted by N.A.S.A.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZB7yswo6a0)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	4. Ditivios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pulling herself upright, she pressed her right hand tight against her chest while she buried her face in the other. Her breathing grew ragged the longer she stayed hunched. Her shoulders shook as her muscles tensed. Finally, like a rubber band that was stretched too far, she snapped. 
> 
> Ryder grabbed the first solid object she could find her hands on. And she flung it. It was pent up frustration, it was a deep-seated dread, it was anger, it was fear, it was all of it wrapped up in a single package and taken out on an innocent glass of water. The glass shattered.
> 
> Pressure released in a hiss as she exhaled sharply. It was a split second of relief, not nearly enough to put a dent in her overwhelmed emotions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori on Tumblr](http://seokanori.tumblr.com/)!

Her right arm was free! The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. Though it throbbed relentlessly, every slight movement sent bright needles of agony up her arm, she wasn’t about to lay down and wait for the shadows to return. She forced her fingers to straighten, to bend, to pull and tug. The strap pinning her left hand down was undone in quick order. 

_Free! Fucking free!_

There was only a single powerful lamp overhead. Everything else was cast in shadows. Her ears strained to pick up any telltale sound of the shadows returning. There was nothing but her own barely controlled panicked breaths.

_A nail, a hammer, breaking through flesh and bone._

She shook her head to clear the flashback, grounding herself in the present by clenching her fist. Flesh ripped open wider, warm liquid trickled through her tight fingers. She swallowed the gasp. With two hands, well one horribly mangled one and a sore one, she worked the strap across her feet free. She wobbled as her feet hit the cold floor. It was slick and wet. She didn’t want to think about why that was. Her legs tingled and shook, but they held. 

_Out, I need out now!_

Her eyes peered into the shadows looking, searching for an exit. Her eyes couldn’t pierce the pitch darkness. Then, the unmistakable sound of metal grating against metal. The hair at the back of her neck stood. It was a long continuous sound, and it was getting closer. The sound bounced against the walls, but it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She couldn’t pinpoint the source, not in the murky dark. 

She backed up and hit the metal table, the trap that had held her here for so long. Indecision, fear and panic locked down on her. Her heart beating so quickly she was sure she was dying. 

Something solid approached the light. 

It wasn’t a shadow, not something shapeless and formless. It was real, and it was here. But most importantly, it meant she could wrap her hand around and hit it. With a cry, she launched herself at the faceless monster. Her right fist connected with something solid. Pain exploded up her arm. 

* * *

Her breaths were the only thing she heard. Her eyes darted about, taking in the familiar steel ceiling above her bed. Shadows lengthened and skimmed across the ceiling over and over. One hand already grasping for the pistol under her pillow

_A dream, a fucking dream. We’re still in transit. Everything is fine._

She needed to check, to reassure herself. She pulled her left hand from under the pillow, forcing her fingers to uncurl from the grip of the pistol. It was whole. Her skin marred only by indentations made by creases in the sheets. Her fingers were a little stiff but otherwise fine. As she pulled her right hand over, pain ran up her arm. She hissed. Pieces of glass were embedded in her knuckles. Her music player that sat next to her bed was smashed. “Fuck,” she breathed. 

Pulling herself upright, she pressed her right hand tight against her chest while she buried her face in the other. Her breathing grew ragged the longer she stayed hunched. Her shoulders shook as her muscles tensed. Finally, like a rubber band that was stretched too far, she snapped. 

Ryder grabbed the first solid object she could find her hands on. And she flung it. It was pent up frustration, it was a deep-seated dread, it was anger, it was fear, it was all of it wrapped up in a single package and taken out on an innocent glass of water. The glass shattered.

Pressure released in a hiss as she exhaled sharply. It was a split second of relief, not nearly enough to put a dent in her overwhelmed emotions. 

“Pathfinder, I advise you to visit the med-bay and let Dr. T’Perro look at your wound,” SAM chimed in. 

The band of dread was still constricting her chest, it was a vice squeezing her lungs. 

“I am required to report this to the doctor if you persist in leaving your PTSD untreated,” SAM said. “Pathfinder, you need help.”

Her jaw tightened further. 

“I need a shower, that’s what I fucking need,” she growled. 

* * *

“What is it?” Ryder asked, bracing her elbows on the table, staring at the hologram. 

“That’s Ditivios,” Scott replied, clearing his throat awkwardly, 

Everyone stared at him. He was clearly unused to addressing such a large group of people. 

“And?” she prompted, “what’s so interesting?”

“We can’t launch probes from orbit. The oceans of nitrogen churned by powerful winds makes targeting our probes accurately impossible."

And that was literally the best news Ryder had heard all day. She was done feeling useless. “So we have to head down?” she asked hopefully. 

Scott nodded. "We need to place the probes by hand. That way, we can get the telemetry we need for the scans."

Less than an hour later, she was all suited up. Nyx and Drack were putting on their own armour as well. As Ryder snappeed her folded down Black Widow on the magnetic holster on her back, she turned to Harper. “You have command of the ship for the during of the mission.” 

Harper nodded, the ends of her mouth perked upwards, as her eyes drifted over to Scott. Ryder swallowed the words that threatened to spill forth. She took solace she would be free from the confines of the Tempest soon. 

Scott pointed them to the probes they needed to set up. These were long rod like things, too wide for her to wrap her arms around it, just a little shorter than she was. Surprisingly it wasn't all that heavy for something they launch from the ship normally. Ryder started loading them into the Nomad.  

“So just set these up at the designated spots,” he said. “It should automatically link up with the Tempest. And we will take it from there.”

Ryder nodded, loading the rest. “So five of these are enough?” she asked. 

“It will have to be. That’s all we have,” he said.

“Contact with the Tempest will be spotty but with SAM we should still be in constant contact,” Ryder said. 

Scott nodded. She turned to hop into the Nomad, Scott called out. “Sara.”

She frowned turning back to him. “Is there something else?”

His eyes studied her face, his face intent on every single facet of it. She knew what he saw. The dark eye circles and eye bags that never go away despite her actually sleeping. Her bloodshot eyes, her skin was taking on a grey hue. Ryder’s mouth grew pinched. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. 

“I’m fine.” Again, the usual refrain. If she repeated it often enough, it'd be true right?

She didn’t give him a chance to reply and hopped into the Nomad. “Jarth,” she said via the omni-tool. “Drop the ramp.”

“Lowering the ramp, standby.”

* * *

“This is the last one,” Nyx said, shouldering one of the probes, making look like it weighed nothing. 

Ditivios was windy, way too windy in Ryder's opinion. She being the lightest of the bunch had to maintain a constant biotic shield around herself. She never felt more like a child. It went without saying that Drack being the heaviest and densest among them had no trouble with the wind. Nyx had some trouble being tall and lacking Drack's bulk. That didn’t stop her from being productive. She, on the other hand, had to stay downwind, keeping herself behind the Nomad just to keep her footing. 

“Kid.” Drack’s voice came through the comm channel. “Are you ok?”

“Never better,” she growled in reply, her face feeling flush from exertion and embarrassment. 

Ditivios’ atmosphere was nitrogen heavy. It wouldn’t work for any organics but the kett were different. They could conceivably survive even in this harsh environment. That also meant no removing of helmets unless she wanted a repeat of Habitat 7. _Ryder-01, not Habitat 7._ Her breath misted against her face and it made her feel awful. She was rapidly revising her enthusiasm for the mission. 

But it was good to see the sky, albeit covered with swirling and billowing clouds of nitrogen so dense it felt like the hand of god was pressing down on her shoulders. The last location was in a sheltered valley. There the winds had subsided to something more manageable. Ryder was able to stand and walk without a biotic shield. She kept her Black Widow deployed and on hand, just in case there were native wildlife too curious to stay away. Behind, she could hear Nyx and Drack cursing and swearing. 

“Drack! Drack!” Nyx shouted. “This isn’t going to be done faster because you are hammering it into submission.”

“It just needs a good whack and it will be done,” Drack growled. 

Drack with a balled up fist, was trying to plummet the probe onto the ground. “This is delicate equipment, and we only have the five of them,” Nyx pointed out, a power tool in her talons. 

Both of them turned to look at Ryder, waiting for her to settle the argument for them. “Nyx is right. I don’t want to have to tell Ama Darav we can’t do the scan because you decide to smash one of the probes.”

Drack folded his hands across his chest. “Fine, you do it then,” he said. 

Nyx applied the power tool liberally and effectively. Ryder watched as she clenched and unclenched her right hand. The bandages she had done up were a little too tight. “Pathfinder, Dr. T’Perro should have a look at your hand again,” SAM said via their private channel. 

Ryder’s jaw tightened, but she ignored SAM. It didn’t take long before the probe was finally set up, correctly this time. “See?” Nyx asked, her hand gesturing with a flourish at the completed job. 

Drack just grumbled under his breath. 

“Not everything is a nail and not everything needs a hammer to be fixed,” Nyx pointed out. 

“SAM, patch me through the Tempest,” Ryder said, leaving the other two to it. 

“Scott here.”

“The probes are all online and ready for you,” she said. 

“I'm seeing it. All right, Kallo, take us up?” Scott said, his voice drifting away from the mic. 

“Will do, hang on to something. It will be choppy,” Jarth replied. “Those winds are merciless.”

“Sara, we shouldn’t take more than an hour or so,” Scott said. “Once we’re done, we will come down for you. The storm might affect our comms-”

“Don’t worry about us, everything is quiet on the ground,” Drack chimed in. 

Ryder and Nyx both shot him a look instantly. “What?” he asked. 

“See you in a bit,” Scott said as he signed off. 

“Spirits! Drack, I pray we don’t regret your words,” Nyx said.

“Kid, tell me you don’t believe in this superstitious nonsense.” Drack scoffed, looking at her for help. 

“Superstitions?” Nyx was still going on in the background. 

Ryder shrugged and shook her head. “I might not want to believe them but I’ve seen this proven time and time again in the Alliance.”

“Bah! You short-lived species are all the same with your ghosts and spirits. You’re all crazy!”

* * *

“I told you!” Nyx was screaming through the comms channel. 

Ryder gritted her teeth. As her sniper rifle slammed again and again into her shoulder. It was starting to go numb. There would be a massive bruise once this was over. She chambered another round and pulled the trigger. 

“Kid, you’re not really helping up there,” Drack growled, his breath coming in heavy and irregular. 

The shot went wide. _It’s the wind. It’s the fucking wind that’s throwing me off._ She knew better. The glove underneath her gauntlet was feeling damp already. The wound was stinging and pulsing with a life of its own. 

“Fuck, I’m coming down,” she growled, holstering the Black Widow in favour for her shotgun. 

The creatures weren’t the usual adhi or even the giant eiroch they had encountered from time to time. They were dog-sized, scale-covered and fang-mouthed. Ryder's jaw clenched as she watched the swarm slowly but surely start to surround them. _Of course, we're on their turf._

“How much longer?” she asked. 

“Unknown,” SAM replied, “I have not been able to re-establish contact with the Tempest.”

“Great,” Nyx growled, her sniper rifle boomed. 

Another creature fell. Ryder bit her lip. _Nyx has no problem shooting in this wind._ The wind howled like a banshee as it swept down the valley, weaving in and out of caves and crevices. She switched the audio input of her helmet off. She didn't need the wind shrieking in her ear. That and the unearthly cries from the creatures. 

Drack held the front line keeping the swarm from running over their position. Nyx picked off the ones he missed. What was Ryder good for if she couldn't shoot straight? There was only one real answer. “Cover me!” she shouted into the comms and cranked her music up. 

Ryder charged into the swarm. 

She was smooth, spinning out of reach with one move, ramming her omni-blade into the throat of a creature with another. The low bass thumped and her shotgun bucked. 

_If you come to battle, bring a shotgun!  
But if you do, you're a fool, 'cause I duel to the death_

She was a streak of blue lightning, the one woman battering ram, the homing missile that struck at the heart of the enemy. 

_Trying to step to me, you'll take your last breath  
I got the skills, come get your fill_

It was going well, but Ryder had been keeping an eye on her ammo. It wasn’t going to last forever. And with no way to get in touch with the Tempest, they were stuck. With the fucked up storms Ditivios had, she didn’t want Jarth taking any chances and crashing the damn ship. Scott was on the ship, he’d come before things truly went south for them. 

_He will come._

* * *

“I’m out!” Nyx shouted. 

Ryder panted. The creatures had gained a healthy respect for them. Their dead littered a good 20 metres from the Nomad’s position. Not a single one got past them to reach Nyx. 

Her amp felt like a searingly hot lump of coal under her skin. Ryder could feel sweat rolling down her spine and chest. The environmental controls of her suit worked overtime to keep her cool. “I could use a fucking shower,” she growled. 

“Tell me about it,” Nyx retorted. “Though I prefer a sonic bath.”

“Catch,” she shouted as she flung her sniper rifle magazines at Nyx. 

Her hands, not just the right one, were both more than sore. Her biotics had been putting extra oomph behind her punches. And she had the result to show for it. Dark green blood and guts coated her armour. _Thank fuck this is a sealed suit._ Ryder wouldn’t want to be able to smell herself and the outside air as well. 

Her medical protocol had been flashing on her HUD. Her right hand highlighted in red as usual. Bleeding detected. The words flashed in red. _It is always fucking bleeding anyway._ Ryder dismissed the alert with a tap on her omni-tool. She would save the medi-gel for when she really needed it. 

Then a yowl rang out. It was high pitched, undulating and bone chilling. Her eyes darted to the others. Ryder saw fear in their eyes. 

The scaled creatures yelped and retreated, leaving their dead behind. “Something is coming,” Nyx said. 

_You don’t say._

The sound of a fresh magazine being rammed home was loud in the wake of hollow silence. “SAM,” Ryder called, “Have you made contact with the Tempest.”

“No, Pathfinder. I am working on it,” SAM replied, then there was a pause. Ryder could tell the connection was still live. “I will be reporting your injuries to Dr. T’Perro upon arrival on the Tempest,” SAM went on over in the private channel. 

Ryder stiffened. “This is fucking not the time to discuss this,” she growled under her breath. 

“This is not a discussion, Pathfinder,” SAM said, “It is in my benefit that you remain functional. Your mental state has been deteriorating since-"

“SAM, shut up.”

The AI remained mercifully silent. _I have to fucking do something about the damn meddling AI in my head._

She could feel the sharp stabbing pain radiating from the accursed wound. More than that, there was a trembling in her muscles. Ignoring the pain that lanced up her arm, she clenched her hand and shook it. It still quivered. 

_Fuck._

Taking a deep breath of recycled air, Ryder checked her ammo situation. She was down to two clips. She had to make them count. 

The yowl was nearer now. Ryder squinted and looked down the valley. It was still empty. “Do you see anything, Nyx?”

Turians had the sharpest eyesight, if anyone could see something it would be her. “No.”

The sinking feeling at the pit of her guts didn’t go away, instead it turned into a vice, tightening and squeezing. 

“Kid, I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“Drack! You and your mouth! Spirits! You're jinxing us. If I die here, I’ll haunt the shit out of you!” Nyx yelled. 

As the bickering went on behind her, Ryder felt a sudden air pressure pressing down upon her from above. “Up there!” she shouted. 

The creature yowled. Its voice was a sonic weapon on its own. Ryder felt sick just listening to it. The clenching of her guts went from psychological to physical. The creature was nothing like she had ever seen before. It had a humanoid face complete with a visible pair of eyes, slits for a nose and a gapping maw that spanned half its face. Wings that span twice the width of the Nomad sent gust of wind down at them. Its body feathered, sleek and shimmering with iridescent colours and finished off with flesh rending talons for feet.

Drack’s chuckle came through the comms. “It’s smaller than a Thresher Maw. We’ll be fine.”

“Drack, it’s as big as the Nomad and it fucking flies,” Ryder said, “this is no time for jokes.”

“Maybe it will fly away?” Nyx whispered hopefully. 

Ryder snorted while Drack laughed. “Spirits I knew I shouldn't have woken up this morning,” Nyx spat. 

The creature, which Ryder had named Harpy in her mind, screamed again. The churning in her guts intensified and a wave of dizziness made her wavered on her feet. She tried taking a step and stumbled. Nyx and Drack were also groaning. 

“SAM, what is going on? This shouldn’t be happening!” she yelled, pressing a hand over the side of her helmet. It was a futile gesture at best.

“Based on my analysis, the creature is emitting some sort of high frequency attack with its screams,” SAM replied.

“Can you do anything to counteract it?”

“Yes, but both Vetra Nyx and Nakmor Drack do not have the Pathfinder implant that allows me to affect their physiology. But I must warn you, even if I can counteract its effect, it will only be temporary.”

“Drack, catch!” she shouted as SAM spoke, tossing her shotgun to him, along with her remaining ammo magazines. 

Drack fumbled, and the shotgun fell to the ground. His yellow gaze was pained. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. “The louder the scream and the longer you’re exposed to the frequencies, the greater the damage to you,” SAM warned. 

“Understood," she said to SAM, before turning to the others. "I’ll handle it.”

“Pathfinder, I cannot advise such an action-"

“SAM! There is no outrunning this thing, not when only I can see straight. Just do it!”

It was like her ears put on mute. She could still hear the Harpy, even Drack and Nyx, but everything felt far away. Her guts stopped bothering her. The dizziness was gone. Ryder felt as fresh as, running about all day and fighting non-stop for the past 30 minutes, she could be. 

The Harpy’s red eyes darted about and focused on her. It screamed but Ryder felt fine. “What are you doing kid?” Drack asked, dread in his voice. 

“Something fucking stupid.”

The Harpy reared backwards and swooped down at them.

**Lyrics taken from[Jump Around by House of Pain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhzpxjuwZy0)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	5. Harpy Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder nodded, turning back to their foe. The Harpy was bleeding. She could easily track the creature’s motion from the red speckled trail it was leaving across the sickly blue-green vegetation. The iridescent feathers shimmered like oil against the darkening sky, marred by Scorch marks from bullets and grenades. Gaping wounds along the Harpy's body oozed the same greenish blood as the dog-like creatures had. Despite its wounds, the Harpy continued to circle them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori on Tumblr](http://seokanori.tumblr.com/)! 

Ryder landed unsteadily. Her limbs were anchors, no longer an extension of herself. “Kid, you’re going to get yourself killed! Fall back!” Drack shouted.

“We should go just take the Nomad and go!” Nyx yelled. 

Even though Ryder couldn’t see their faces, both of them had opaque visors on their helmets, she could hear their laboured breaths and grunts of pain through the comms. No, running was out of the question. They were all on their last legs. Standing their ground was the only option.

“Tempest, ETA!” she barked. 

“Experiencing some chop! But we’re almost through the upper atmos-"

The comms channel flooded with static. Ryder flinched and hissed as she quickly closed the connection. “We just have to hold out a little more,” she shouted. “The Harpy is definitely as tired as we are. Got a little more in you, old man?”

Drack’s growl of disgust was all the answer she needed. “What about you, Nyx?” she asked. 

“What are you talking about Ryder? I feel completely fine,” the turian said, but the show of bravado was spoilt when she started coughing. 

Ryder's jaw tightened. The cough was altogether too wet and it lasted too long. It must have been way worse for turians, having superior hearing and all. 

“Kid, whatever you want to do, let’s get to it.”

Ryder nodded, turning back to their foe. The Harpy was bleeding. She could easily track the creature’s motion from the red speckled trail it was leaving across the sickly blue-green vegetation. The iridescent feathers shimmered like oil against the darkening sky, marred by Scorch marks from bullets and grenades. Gaping wounds along the Harpy's body oozed the same greenish blood as the dog-like creatures had. Despite its wounds, the Harpy continued to circle them. 

But it wasn’t just the Harpy that was injured. All of them were. Drack and Nyx were pressing one hand against the helmet. If it was anything like her, they were feeling extremely uncomfortable in their ear canals. Ryder blinked. _Where are the krogan and turian ears?_ She shook her head and dismissed the stray thought. Whatever SAM was doing seemed to be at its limits. The nausea was back and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Waves of dizziness forced her to lean against the Nomad for support. 

It was a stalemate. 

“Pathfinder, your heart is seriously affected by the creature’s screams. I recommend immediate retreat,” SAM said. 

Before she could voice her decision, her medical protocol flashed red. She groaned and checked. “Atrial flutter detected” flashed across her HUD. Ryder couldn’t spare the energy to shut either SAM or her suit up. 

The Harpy refused to leave, its metre-long tongue snaking out tasting victory in the air. It flapped its wings harder, soaring into the air. Ryder recognised the move. It had tried it many times before. The ground around the Nomad and probe were completely scored by the razor-sharp talons. 

“Drack, Nyx what’s your ammo situation?” she asked. 

“I could throw my rifle at it,” Nyx laughed, before devolving into coughs again. 

“Kid, what the fuck are you thinking?”

“Do you have any more ammo left,” she growled. 

“Just one more clip but that’s it for my shotgun. If I can’t get near this bird, I can’t hurt it.”

“Fuck,” she spat. 

That fucking Harpy was going to swoop again. Ryder's racked her brains. She needed to end this once and for all. Her eyes widened as it dawned on her. They had a chance to do this. “We can take it down,” she exclaimed. 

“How?” Nyx countered. 

“I will ground it,” she replied, ramming a fresh magazine into her pistol. 

She turned and found the pair staring at her, slack-jawed. One looked incredulous, the other excited. “Spirits, I should have known going out on a mission with you two will be the death of me,” Nyx said. 

Ryder grinned though nobody could see it. “Drack, stash Nyx in the Nomad, she is useless since she has no ammo. I don’t think she can last another round if the Harpy screams at us again,” she ordered. 

“Got it,” Drack said over Nyx’s vehement protests. 

Ryder looked up. Though the distance between them was vast, she could feel its beady little eyes on her. For whatever reason, she had been singled out. Maybe it’s because she was coated in the guts of the other creatures, having waded into the swarm. Maybe her armour looked a little more enticing. She had no fucking clue. 

“Pathfinder, your heart-"

“SAM, I really do not have time to tell you to shut up now. I am about to get real fucking busy. Just get the Tempest down to our location now!”

The Harpy let out another ear-splitting scream, and it dove. 

Her grip tightened around her pistol. The leather creaked. Drack’s breathing was as laboured as was her own. Her omni-blade buzzed as it flashed to life. She ran out to meet it, making sure she was far away enough from the Nomad and the probe. Drack followed but at a distance.

The Harpy sliced through the air like an arrow, its massive wings pinned tight against its sides. Ryder had eyes on the creature, breathing deliberately in through her nose and out through her mouth. She rolled her shoulders and found every single sore and bruised spot in the attempt. Her chest started to hurt, but she packed it away at the back of her mind. 

Timing would be key. Inhale, exhale. Eyes keen, grip sure, stance ready. 

In any scenario, it would look like an image out of a fantasy book, a proper David versus Goliath situation. Ryder the puny human, armed with a pistol and an omni-blade, facing off with a creature, as large as the Nomad, that looked like it leapt out of an unbelievable world, all sharp fangs and flashing talons. 

The Harpy snapped its wings open and banked. Talons gleamed against the light as the claws led the descent. Ryder wasn’t fearless, she was human, of course she was afraid. But she had a job to do. And by every fibre in her being, she would be royally fucking pissed if the bird made her leave a job undone. 

The creature screeched and slammed into the ground. Ryder rolled out of the way at the last minute. But the gust of air that swept out knocked her off balance. Stones and sand were thrown up as it dug another long groove into the ground. Her heart stuttered and slammed harder against her chest. Ryder was up on her feet in an instant. Then, she charged. 

A blue lightning streaked towards the Harpy’s back. Her omni-tool out stretched as she stabbed it into its leg. The Harpy instinctively kicked out. The talon caught her, tearing across her armour. Ryder gasped as pain flashed across her chest but she hung on. Using her omni-blade like a climbing pick she clawed her way onto its back, ripping feathers off as she went. Her pistol bucked as she emptied its clip into one of its wings. The Harpy spun, craning its neck. Its too many teeth sent ice down her spine. Then, it screamed. It was all Ryder could do to hang on as her heart stuttered and skipped. Her vision dimmed as waves of nausea made her gagged. 

“Drack,” she growled, half deafened by the noise. “Anytime now.”

There was no holding it in. Ryder retched inside her helmet. The smell was awful, and she was utterly disgusted with herself. Her guts clenched and unclenched as she fought to hang onto the creature. 

Overhead, the Tempest roared into the scene but Ryder heard none of it. Her pistol was clicking empty but she couldn’t stop pulling the trigger. Her heartbeat loud in her ears as the Harpy's dying screeches faded into the background. She could feel its abnormal beat. It lurched and quivered, beating too fast, too erratically. Her vision was tunnelling and her hands wouldn’t listen to her. 

The last thing she saw was the Harpy's baleful glare before it keeled over with her under it. 

* * *

Her eyes shot open. Her arms were tied down, her legs too. _This must be the nightmare. It has to be!_

But no, everything was bright, the pungent smell of antiseptic and medi-gel overwhelmed her nostrils. 

_Where am I?_

There was a mask over her nose- 

_WHERE am I?_

She wasn’t completely naked, there was a blanket-. 

_WHERE AM I?_

Her heart slammed hard against her chest, threatening to break her ribs from the inside out. She could hear nothing but a persistence ringing sound in her ears. It was so loud she couldn’t hear her voice cracking as she screamed, “Where am I?”

Over and over again. 

_WHERE. AM. I?_

An asari appeared in her field of vision. She blinked. _Who is she?_ Fear seized her heart, and it squeezed. _Is she the bitch? No, the bitch was human. And I’ve killed her. She is dead. Dead._ If she wasn’t already restrained, she would have punched the asari. But the asari was speaking. Blue lips flapping, open and close, repeatedly. She heard nothing except the ringing. _It hurts, oh fuck it hurts!_ She wanted to press her hands over her ears but she didn’t think that would help either.

_Make it stop, make it stop!_  

She rotated her head. There was an orange screen that curtained off her area from the rest of the room. The asari was fiddling something next to her. 

_Why am I here?_

The asari came back into view. Was it fear she saw in the asari’s eyes? The asari seemed to decide that whatever she was saying wasn’t working and she left. 

_This is my chance to escape!_

She refused to wait for the shadows or the nail. Not caring if the restraints were cutting into her wrists, she tugged and struggled. Her life depended on it.   

_Biotics! I have biotics!_

She reached inwards, not caring how she couldn’t catch her breath, ignoring how sweat was beading across her brow, disregarding the way her chest hurt. A burst of strength surged from her core to her arms. With a grunt, the restraint holding her left hand down gave way. 

The asari returned hurriedly. This time with someone else in tow - a man with a familiar face. She frowned and blinked. The fog that clouded her mind receded somewhat, the overwhelming need to escape pulled back at the mere sight of him. The man spoke, but she still couldn’t hear. Her ears just rang and rang, loud and persistent. She frowned, irritation mounted. The ringing made it impossible to think, to process what she was seeing. Frustrating mixed with confusion was a sure recipe for trouble.

The man looked upwards at the ceiling and his lips flapped while the asari tried to push her back onto the bed. She flinched and growled, bringing up her hand all sheathed in blue. _Don’t fucking touch me._

The asari held her hands up placatingly. It was only then she realised she had been speaking out loud. She wasn’t just thinking those thoughts. The ringing was driving her mad, it felt like a physical band around her throat choking her.

A sharp pain lanced through her head. She hissed. It was a needle stabbing, it was an ice pick digging. Then a voice rang out in her head. “Pathfinder,” the voice said. 

Ryder blinked. _Yes, I am the Pathfinder. I am Sara Ryder._

“Dr. T’Perro wants you to lie down,” the voice went on. 

_SAM, yes, you’re SAM._

Ryder had no idea if she spoke the words out loud or this was via their private channel. Her eyes darted around as if seeing things with fresh eyes. “I’m in the med-bay?”

“Yes, you are. Lieutenant Harper led the second squad to retrieve you and the others. They have successfully recovered three of the five probes as well.” 

“What about Drack? Nyx?” This question she directed at the others. 

She stared at them. Sitting up, she realised she was completely naked underneath the blanket. And there were electrodes as well as two large pads used for defibrillation stuck on her chest. An IV line snaking from her left arm while her right was completely encased in an omni-cast.

“Dr. T’Perro advises you to lie down,” SAM repeated. “Your heart rate has not stabilised. Scott Ryder is also advising the same thing.”

“Drack and Nyx, are they ok?” Ryder insisted though she allowed T'Perro to press her back onto the bed. 

The fog of her initial panic left her like the tide receding. Aches and pain were all flaring to life, her body suddenly remembering their existence. “Vetra Nyx fared worse than Nakmor Drack, her ear drums were more damaged than his.”

Then another sharp pain as T’Perro’s voice echoed inside her head. Ryder squeezed her eyes shut as she rode out the pain. “Apologies, Pathfinder. I managed connect your implant to the squad’s omni-tool so that they could speak to you while your hearing recovers,” SAM explained.

“Can you hear me, Ryder?” T’Perro said. 

She nodded, opening her eyes again, tears pricking at the corners. It was an odd thing to listen with her head and not her ears. In some ways, Ryder felt like she was going mad, listening to voices in her head.

“You had it the worst. Being exposed to the creature’s high frequency screams at closer proximity and for longer periods has caused your atrial flutter. It is too dangerous to leave it untreated.”

Ryder nodded. She could feel the odd stutter in her heart beat. Even now calm and lying down, she couldn’t quite catch her breath. The mask over her nose and mouth provided much welcomed oxygen. 

“So why was I restrained before?”

There was a pause. She turned and looked at the asari. The med-bay only brought back bad memories for her. Coupled with her lack of trust when it came to her treatment by T'Perro, especially after Eos, waking up finding herself restrained was probably the worst possible thing. 

“We were discussing the need to cardiovert you,” T’Perro admitted finally. 

Ryder turned her sandy and bloodshot eyes to her brother. Scott looked as tired as she felt. “I think you should take do it. There are plenty of nasty problems if we don’t treat it,” he said.

She suppressed a shiver. T’Perro pushed herself forward. “We will need to sedate you before we carry out the procedure.”

“No sedation!” 

Even if she couldn’t hear, she knew her voice quivered at the last word. Ryder levelled as hard a glare as she could muster under the circumstances. 

“Don’t be foolish. It is going to hurt, a lot, to do it without sedation,” T’Perro pressed. 

“No.” she repeated, hoping her voice remained level but both Scott’s and T’Perro’s eyes darted to the monitors behind her. 

Scott hurried to her side. “Calm down,” he said. “Nobody is going to force you to accept sedation if you don’t want to.”

Ryder’s jaw clenched as she stared at T’Perro. The doctor couldn’t quite meet her eyes. A flush of satisfaction ran through her. Scott took in the scene before him in confusion. “But you'd really need it,” he went on. 

T’Perro’s eyes widened as she went to fuss with the monitors behind Ryder’s bed. It was strange to watch them speak to each other and not hear a word. Scott was gesturing with his arms, pointing at her and the monitors. T’Perro was doing the same. It was watching a silent movie without subtitles. 

Her vision was tunnelling again as her lungs worked double time, craving for air. She was so tired, but she refused to let her guard down, not when T’Perro threatened her with sedation. Anything but that, not again. 

“Ryder, we cannot wait,” T’Perro’s voice rang out in her mind. “With or without sedation take your pick.”

“Please take the sedation,” Scott begged, his face hovering over hers. 

“Too close,” she gasped, turning her face away. 

“Sara, this is no time to be stubborn. I promise to be here throughout,” he assured. “I will watch over you.”  

Through her cloudy vision, she could see the intensity of his concern. His knuckles were white as he gripped the frame of the bed. “Please!”

The word echoed inside her head and lingered. Who else could she trust if not Scott? He was her brother, her twin. She trusted him implicitly. 

Her eyes met his. And she nodded. 

T’Perro worked quickly after that. A syringe was prepped and injected into the port of the IV. The strap she broke was replaced and the existing one re-tightened. It was all Ryder could do to let T’Perro do that without lashing out again. The doctor kept flicking her eyes at the monitors. As the drugs started to work, reality seemed to bend. T’Perro was a blue blur that hurried about in the silence. Scott was her constant, standing next to her, his eyes always on her. Her mind felt empty without their voices inside. It was like a cold hand wrapped around her chest and it refused to let go. 

Ryder blinked uncomprehendingly as T’Perro spoke. Blue lips opened and closed. She struggled against the sedation coursing through her veins as her eyelids sagged shut. Trapped inside a bubble of deafening silence and utter darkness, Ryder flailed. She couldn’t hear the breathless silence of anticipation underneath the frantic beeping of the heart rate monitor. She couldn’t neither hear Scott asking T’Perro, “Will this hurt her?”

Nor T’Perro’s reply. “She is sedated it won’t hurt her. She won’t remember anything. Just let me work, Scott.” 

Though Ryder was robbed of two of five senses, she could still feel. The blanket was ripped off her chest. The cold air of the med-bay ran across her bare skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. But she couldn’t hear the whine of the defibrillator powering up or T’Perro shouting, “Clear.”

Her chest exploded. The pain was a thing of exquisite beauty if Ryder had time to examine it. The sedation dragged her towards the inky depths. And slowly but surely she was drowned by shadows.

* * *

Awareness was a tricky thing. Ryder floated in a haze of numbness. The pain was still there, chiefly across her bruised chest and shoulder, and up her right arm. But it was far away, locked behind the haze of drugs and analgesic. She couldn’t say when she was conscious or if she actually was awake. Her world was still alarmingly quiet, yet noisy at the same time. She swallowed, trying to coat her painful throat with some moisture. Through the ringing she could hear her throat moving, saliva sliding down. Everything was loud and irritating. If this was going to last any longer, she would go crazy.

Her heart thudded heavily, she could feel every beat of it. She tested her limbs next, no restraints. A shuddering breath of relief escaped her mouth. The mask was still over her nose and mouth, and it chafed. But Ryder was content to let it be for now. She wanted to enjoy the blissful state of being. 

“Pathfinder, you are awake. I’ve informed Dr. T’Perro.”

And just like that her peace was shattered. 

Reluctantly Ryder opened her eyes, without her ears to warn her when someone was approaching, she needed her eyes. _And I need to do something about SAM. He has been too much of a busybody of late._

The screen surrounding her bed slid open and T’Perro slipped in. Her blue lips flapped again and Ryder heard nothing. “I can’t hear you,” she said. 

The doctor’s eyes darted upwards as was the norm when speaking to SAM. A sharp pain radiated from her implant and she pressed her fingers against her temple. “What the fuck,” she growled. 

“Apologies, Pathfinder. This isn’t how the implant was meant to be used that’s why you are experiencing feedback,” SAM replied. 

“Can you hear me now?” T’Perro’s voice rattled inside her head. 

She nodded. “When is my hearing expected to recover?” 

“We’re not sure. Drack has recovered most of his hearing. Thanks to the thick skull that krogans have, it has not affected him as badly as you and Vetra.”

Ryder nodded for T’Perro to carry on as she pushed herself upright. 

“Vetra’s hearing damage is a little more serious than yours. But other than that both of them are expected to make a full recovery. You on the other hand…”

Ryder was methodically removing the electrodes from her chest, disregarding the disapproval on T’Perro’s face. She had no wish to hang around in the med-bay for longer than she needed to. 

“Your atrial flutter has not return after cardioversion. Your hearing will recover eventually on its own though it might take some time. My worry is your right arm. It has suffered a complex compound fracture. It requires surgery for a proper recovery. I can’t do that on the Tempest. You will need a proper medical centre.”

Ryder looked at her right arm. Everything below her elbow was wrapped in a secure omni-cast. Only her fingers were left free of the omni-cast. She wriggled them and stabbing pain ran up her arm. “Isn’t it already fix?” she asked, waving her arm at T’Perro. 

“This is just a temporary measure, it requires more specialised care than I can provide here.”

Ryder ground her teeth. _More delays, more fucking delays to the mission._ “SAM, how long was I out? And where are we now?”

“Pathfinder, you and the others were rescued from Ditivios just under 20 hours ago. You were unconscious for two hours after your procedure. Currently we are leaving the Nol system. Lieutenant Harper had set heading towards the Nexus for resupply.”

“Belay that order. Get us to Meridian. We can all use some time to rest and recover.”

Ryder ignored the doctor as she wrapped herself in the blanket. Her mind already on her own plans of rest and relaxation as she exited the med-bay. And that involved the good doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	6. Tattletale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then it hit her, a tidal wave of nausea. She stumbled to her feet and crashed through her room, trying her best to hold it in. The pressure was building in her guts. Clamping her lips shut, she staggered as quickly as her unsteady feet allowed.
> 
> The door to the showers and toilets opened before she could hit the holo-lock. Ryder didn’t care how much noise she was making as she pushed past the opening doors. Bare feet squeaking against the floor as she fell to her knees. Hands hugging the toilet bowl as she let it all out. 
> 
> Her guts clenched and unclenched, cold sweet washed down her spine as she spewed mouthfuls of half-digested food and booze. Her throat burnt and her eyes watered. Through it all, she could hear the churning of her guts from the inside as the ringing made her want to smash her head against the toilet bowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori on Tumblr](http://seokanori.tumblr.com/)! 

Ryder stared at her ceiling. She had already memorised every scratch and every flaw in the finish. Still, she couldn’t sleep. 

How could she?

Her own breathing was loud, so damn loud. She could hear how her throat worked as she swallowed, how food was tossed around in her mouth as she chewed, how air was forced out her lungs as she coughed. Every bodily function that used to work silently in the background was now all she could hear. And overlaying it all was the infernal ringing. Ryder was beyond frustrated.

_Oh fuck that ringing._

It wouldn’t stop. It was there when she worked, when she tried to write an after-action report, when she tried to clean her weapons one handed, when she tried to fucking sleep. 

If it had a beat, a solid baseline, maybe she could rap to it. Of course, in her head, not out loud. She wasn't drunk enough for that. But it didn’t have anything like. It was annoying; it was continuous, and it was driving her up the fucking wall. And that led to her lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling for hours on end. There was nothing to listen to but the fucked up ringing. Not even music could pierce the solid wall of incessant ringing.

Ryder surged upright, grimacing as she accidentally put weight on her right arm. Having no use of her right arm wasn’t that big a deal since she was ambidextrous. She could deal with the inconvenience. But the ring, she growled wordlessly as she shoved the thought to the back of her mind.

“Where the fuck is that bottle,” she muttered, refusing to turn on the light and was patting around the foot of her bed with her good hand. 

Her fingers found a solid cool object. She sighed in satisfaction. 

“Pathfinder, I do not advise you to consume alcohol. It may cause some serious side effects with your painkillers,” SAM informed via their private channel. 

Ryder paused and cocked her head. “SAM, are you disapproving of my actions?”

“Yes, I am.”

She snorted. “You can shove it up your ass. I don’t care if I have to go to SAM node to do it. I’m going to drink and pass out. I can’t sleep with this fucking ringing in my ears!” 

Without giving SAM a chance to respond, Ryder drained whatever remained in the bottle. The familiar burn ran down her throat. 

"Gulp, gulp, gulp," her throat said.  

And her ears dutifully transmitted it to her brain. She swallowed a sigh, thankfully that was silent. Her parched throat thanked her for the alcohol. Leaning against her wardrobe, butt on the floor, she stared out of her window and found a second bottle. She drank. 

It didn’t take long to feel pleasantly buzzed. Her eyes were getting heavy. Ryder smiled. “See,” she slurred to nobody in particular. “It fucking worked.”

SAM remained silent, maybe disapprovingly so. She didn’t care. “Run and fucking tell mommy, see if I care.”

She stood, wavering on her feet. Her vision wasn’t all that clear, but that was because of the booze and to be expected. “Now I can fucking sleep.”

Ryder tipped forward and plopped face first into her bed, groaning a little as she jarred her bad arm. It didn’t take long before she was snoring lightly.

* * *

Restraints tight around her limbs. _No, not again!_

Shadows dancing just beyond her vision. There was a hint of pale human skin, a slim body, dreadlocks and mouth smirking at her. A sharp metal glinted in the dark. _Fuck no!_

Her muscles corded, and the restraints gave way quickly. She refused to be helpless, not even in her nightmares. _Never again!_  

She lunged blindly into the dark. Her hands found flesh. Her quarry struggled and twisted. Fingers tightening around anything she got her hands on. She held on. It didn't matter what the bitch did, there was no way she would let go. Pain flashed like bright points in the dark as the pointed end of the nail punching in and out of her skin. Metal digging grooves into her flesh over and over. But she didn't flinch, she was never letting her foe go again. With a growl of rage, she sank her teeth into muscle where neck met shoulder. The bitch howled while she tasted blood. 

* * *

Ryder surged upright. Her right arm was sending waves of excruciating pain up to her shoulder. She took shuddering breaths in an attempt to ride it out. It wasn’t working so well. 

“Pathfinder-“ SAM spoke via their private channel.

“SAM, no,” Ryder growled through gritted teeth, “shut up.”

Then it hit her, a tidal wave of nausea. She stumbled to her feet and crashed through her room, trying her best to hold it in. The pressure was building in her guts. Clamping her lips shut, she staggered as quickly as her unsteady feet allowed.

The door to the showers and toilets opened before she could hit the holo-lock. Ryder didn’t care how much noise she was making as she pushed past the opening doors. Bare feet squeaking against the floor as she fell to her knees. Hands hugging the toilet bowl as she let it all out. 

Her guts clenched and unclenched, cold sweet washed down her spine as she spewed mouthfuls of half-digested food and booze. Her throat burnt and her eyes watered. Through it all, she could hear the churning of her guts from the inside as the ringing made her want to smash her head against the toilet bowl. 

* * *

By the time she felt safe enough to try standing, an hour had passed. Her limbs were jittery and weak, but they held. She felt like someone had taken a rough brush to the inside of her mouth, reaching all the way through her throat, down to her guts and scoured it raw. The taste in her mouth was foul and her head was pounding with a vengeance. 

Groaning, she rinsed her mouth out before heading to the med-bay. She needed to take the edge of this headache turning migraine if she didn't want to wrap herself around the toilet bowl again. Everything just hurt. _Maybe that little nap isn't worth all this._

It was still in the middle of the night cycle. _No need to bother Lexi, I can get my own painkillers. I know where they are anyway._

Ryder paused and stared at the red holo-lock outside the med-bay. “What the fuck.”

“The med-bay had been barred from your entry,” SAM informed. 

“By whose authority?”

“By Dr. T’Perro.”

“I hope you have a better explanation than that SAM.”

“I’ve informed Dr. T’Perro of your drinking once you ignored my caution.”

Ryder exhaled, long and slow. Anger was a good crutch. Her back straightened, her shoulders rolled back. Fatigue and all her aches and pain was pushed to the back of her mind. “So you went and tattle on me,” she said, her voice sounded flat and dangerous even within their private comm channel. 

“Yes. It was my job to look out for the Pathfinder. Not to watch as them self-destruct and cater to all their whims and fancies.”

She ground her teeth as she considered her options. The combination of her pounding head and incessant ringing worked effectively to burn her patience down to ashes. 

“Override that with the Pathfinder authority now,” she barked. 

The holo-lock remained stubbornly red. “I cannot do that.”

SAM’s neutral toneless voice was getting on her nerves. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Should not.”

“Fuck!”

There was no fighting the AI. Unless she wanted to hack the damn door with her omni-tool, knowing there was no way she could work faster than the AI that was stuck in her own fucking head. There was no way she would be getting into the med-bay any time soon. 

“Fuck you, SAM."

She clenched her good hand and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. The seconds ticked by as she fought to rein in her temper. It wasn’t working. Ryder stomped off into the galley. Expecting to find the place empty, she blinked when she realised Nyx and Drack were sitting there. They stared back. A steaming cup of dextro tea sat in front of Nyx and the bottle of home-brew ryncol Drack got from Kesh was between the krogan's fingers. She grinned. 

_Maybe it isn’t a lost cause after all._

Drack grinned and beckoned her over. Despite the mind-numbing ringing in her ears, she understood what the sliding of a fresh bottle towards an empty seat meant. Sliding into the chair, she put the bottle to her lips and drank deep. With a satisfied smack of her lips, she thumped the bottle onto the table. 

Nyx’s mandibles were tight her face. She was spotting a bandage around her head. Her face was looking more pinched than usual. Drack on the other hand looked as good as new as if they hadn’t spent yesterday fighting for their lives. 

Nyx gestured towards her arm and flapped her mandibles questioningly at her. Ryder shook her head and grimaced, gesturing at her own ears. The turian nodded in sympathy and sighed. Drack slammed a fist on the table. Ryder heard nothing, but the way her bottle jumped made her flinched, jerking her attention to him. He was laughing, albeit silently. His mouth opened and closed. Ryder rolled her eyes. Maybe if she had someone who understood the situation she was in and they had some booze to share, things wouldn’t be so bad?

And that was just the first night.

* * *

The journey to Meridian was unbearable. Four days of thought shattering, ears hurting, anger inducing ringing, Ryder was all ready to kill someone, anyone. 

T’Perro had told her under no uncertain terms that if she didn’t stop drinking alcohol, there would be no painkillers for her. Ryder chose booze. The days crawled, her fingers constantly itched for a cigarette but she didn’t have any on board. And this wasn’t something she could bump off anyone else. At least with a little hit of nicotine, she’d be able to relax. The late nights in the galley with Drack and Nyx were the only thing that kept her sane. 

Nyx opted for tea every time. She preferred having access to painkillers. While Drack and her dipped deep into his stash of home brew ryncol, often ending the night in her quarters as they passed the same bottle back and forth in silence. Human and krogan just seated on the floor, eyes gazing at the stars sweeping by her window. But that made for horrible hangovers the next day. 

Ryder gasped as she sat up. Her breaths came fast and stuttering. The nightmares were increasing in frequency. Booze helped her sleep, but it intensified her nightly horrors. Her head was pounding. That’s nothing new. There was no need to hold back on her drinking since she wasn't needed for anything. The Tempest had a heading. There were no fires to put out. She couldn't train or spar. She never felt more useless. And that was just the day cycle. After her nightly drinking sessions, she was dragged into a never ending fight with demons that lived in her head. 

Ryder was beyond tired. 

She sat on her bed, her feet flat on the cool steel floor. Her face buried in her left hand while her right rested lightly on her lap. Her heart raced and pounded, insisting she was in danger. But everything was fine, the Tempest was still in transit to Meridian. _Fuck this nightmare._

“Pathfinder, it would be prudent to let Dr. T’Perro know about-"

“SAM, stop. No running off to fucking mommy to tell on me!”

“But-"

“No fucking buts,” she spat. “I’m feeling fucking great!”

To prove she was feeling fine, Ryder levered herself off the bed, grimacing as she did so. Her bad arm was mostly content to remain a throbbing mess but sometimes she forgot that it was more hurt than it usually was. After all she was used to that infernal wound not healing, but a complex compound fracture was a whole other thing. 

Still, the human body was amazing. It could get used to almost anything. No painkillers, no problem. Painkillers meant giving up booze and allowing T’Perro to poke and prod at her. The doctor had used up all her poking and prodding quota for the month. 

Despite feeling the desperate need for a shower, she headed straight towards her desk. The blue orb that represented SAM flickered as if flinching. Ryder snorted. _And I've managed to intimidate an AI. What an achievement._

Instead of addressing SAM, she reached up one handed and started rummaged through the shelves. The same shelves that were meant to house her father’s model ship collection. It was a collection he had enjoyed building so much that he brought them over to Andromeda. The model ships had more of his attention than either of his children ever did. Ryder grunted and pushed the thought out of her mind. _Old shit can stay where they belong._

Now they housed her collection of alcohol. The thought brought her much satisfaction. And this was among the least of her vices that her father had a problem with. _Take that fucker._  

Everything she could get her hands on were represented on the shelves, albeit most of them were now empty after four days of a purely liquid breakfast. Ryder shook each bottle in turn, searching for one that wasn’t completely empty. Her face lit up when she found one. And it was her last bottle. _Shit._

“Pathfinder, drinking alcohol is ill-.”

Ryder paused with the bottle half way towards her lips. She glared at the blue orb. Counting the seconds, she waited, daring SAM to continue. Her count reached 30, and she tipped the bottle the rest of the way to her lips, all the while keeping an eye on SAM. Bottle met mouth, lips locked on glass and liquid poured down her throat. When she surfaced for air again, the bottle was empty. The familiar burn coated her tongue deliciously. She smacked her lips and shot SAM a look of defiance. 

“Drack better have more otherwise there would be hell to pay.”

* * *

Ryder never thought time could actually crawl. Even on the field with a sniper rifle in her hands, eyes searching, body waiting for that split second surge of adrenaline. Her bullet finding the target. Time never dragged so. 

She was bored enough to have scrolled through the news feed for the umpteenth time. She had scanned all the headlines, read the articles. She emerged from the experience a little more bewildered at the things normal people enjoyed reading and watching. The news feed were filled with the latest angara food craze on the Nexus, how the Cutter’s trail had gone cold, the worst of all the latest gossip about how Tann and Addison might be into each other. 

Ryder was more than desperate at this point. 

“Jarth, what’s the ETA to Meridian?” she asked, pacing the Bridge. 

_I’ve ran out of booze. Drack has ran out of booze. The fucking Tempest is completely dry._

She frowned. “Jarth, what’s-“

His mouth opened and closed and she heard nothing apart from the ringing. Then he caught himself and his fingers moved towards his omni-tool to trigger the connection. 

“No, Jarth. Just write-“

The sharp pain stabbed at her brain. Her words were jolted out of her mind. She gritted her teeth. “We will be there in 36 hours,” Jarth replied curtly. “Just like I’ve told you the last hour. The Tempest can’t go any faster.”

Ryder sighed, rubbing her temple, waiting for the needle-sharp discomfort to pass. She stepped off the Bridge, she had obviously overstayed her welcome there. 

Being bored and sober was a bad combination for Ryder. _What the fuck am I supposed to do if I can’t train or spar?_ As she stepped through the doors towards the research console, she found Scott chatting with Harper. Her face darkened immediately. She had read the after-action report from Harper. Everything went by the book. There was nothing she could fault Harper on. 

The delay was more from the loss of communications between the Tempest and her squad. It didn't look like Harper purposely delayed. And by all accounts, the Lieutenant was the one who lifted the damn Harpy that died on top of her. So technically Ryder owed Harper her life, at least on paper. 

_We’re not even close to being square._

Scott jerked his eyes over, realising they weren’t alone. Ryder kept her eyes on Harper, noting the rosy hint on her cheeks. _Oh fuck, she's blushing._ Ryder’s stomach turned. Scott approached, his lips flapping. This time, Ryder was quick to say, “No, none of that implant talking shit. It fucking hurts. If you want to talk, you can text me. Or write it down, anything, just not that implant talking thing.”

Scott snorted and laughed. There was only the cursed ringing.

_Fuck, maybe it's permanent. I hope not._ Though T’Perro had told her repeatedly that she would recover, eventually. _E-fucking-ventually._  

Scott tapped on his omni-tool for a bit and lifted the display. 

“How are you feeling?” It read. 

“Fine, I’m fine. Can’t you ask something else?”

Scott frowned and studied her face. She grimaced, she knew what he’d find. All the signs of shitty sleep and shittier behaviour was craved onto her face. He sighed and shook his head. 

This was nothing new for either of them. After all, Scott was the good one, she was the troublemaker, black sheep and pariah all rolled into one. It seemed nothing she did could get her a shred of her parents’ attention. No amount of failing grades, petty crimes, smoking, drinking and all around debauchery did the trick. If the law caught up with her, the Ryder name was enough to make C-Sec let her go. And she did it all, stealing, breaking and entering, and eventually graduating to attempted manslaughter. 

Ryder’s mind shied away from the memory. Her first taste of real fear was bitter and sharp. She witnessed a very tangible consequence to her idea of fun. She sighed and shook her head, pushing the mental image of the bleeding guard out of her mind. One shitty nightmare was enough, she didn't need to provide her brain more imagery.

“Tell me you have some booze stashed somewhere,” she begged. 

Scott laughed. More ringing. _This is getting so damn old._ But Ryder was familiar with her brother's laughter. She didn't need ears to tell her how it sounded. It was always strong, deep and full. Eyes crinkling, mouth open and wide, and always with a smirk. There was no artifice in his laughter. He raised his hand towards her face.

Ryder was watching for it. He always did that even though she hated it. They were never touchy feely as a family. Even if they were twins, they weren’t hugging and kissing each other casually on the cheek all the time. Ryder was comfortable with nakedness, with sex, with all the ways fucking happened. But those were only skin deep. It was only a show of dominance, of control. These casual touches, on the other hand, were too intimate, in a way baring her body never felt. She didn't have the words to explain. It felt like exposing her soul, revealing her weaknesses. It was too much. And she was never prepared for that. 

She ducked out of the way and he grinned. It was the same game they played all the time. Both of them knew the steps. His was to attempt, hers was to dodge. She couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. Scott made a big show of glancing back at Harper. The Lieutenant wasn’t looking their way. If she was, Ryder had a pair of flinty eyes ready for her. She raised an eyebrow at him. He beckoned her, and she followed. 

“Booze?” she asked hopefully. “Don’t fucking tease me, Scott.”

His cool grey eyes held a mirth in them that she would never be able to match. But that was ok. Scott would always stand in the light while she shrouded herself in shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	7. Last Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark skin slipping under her shirt, cupping her breasts. His hands were always cool. And they were always so good at teasing, getting her worked up with the mere brush of his fingers along the right parts. She returned the favour with her tongue trailing down, always downwards. She always loved tasting him, eating all of him, driving him into a frenzy with her heat. 
> 
> They were fire and ice. They clashed and battled like elementals fighting for supremacy. Neither could triumph over the other for long. They were the sun and the moon, forever chasing but seldom meeting. It was a wonder they didn’t explode in a fiery conflagration. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover and chapter art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori](https://www.seokanori.com). She is also on Tumblr by the same name! Check out her [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/seokanori)!

Meridian couldn’t come soon enough. Ryder’s arm throbbed. T’Perro eventually took pity on her, now that she was as sober as a judge. The doctor was happy to dole out the painkillers. It only helped with one of her problems, but it opened the door to a whole host of others. One of them, the constant poking and prodding by said doctor, leading to her insistence that Ryder wore a sling for her arm. 

“It will take the weight off your shoulder and you will need less painkillers,” T’Perro pointed out. 

Ryder glared at the sling like it was a piece of turd. 

“I know you don’t like it but humour me,” she went on. Her stern tone served only to tickle Ryder’s overwhelming need to buck against authority no matter how reasonable the request was. 

For the sake of expediency, she pulled it over her head. Her shoulder sang in relief when she rested her arm into the sling. But that was just one of her myriad problems. Chief among them was her still ringing ears. When Jarth announced the ETA to Meridian, Ryder could have wept if she was inclined to such emotional outbursts. 

She and SAM were on rocky terms at best. He was a tool at best, not a friend, and to have him undermine her was completely unacceptable. It would be like having a gun and it shooting her in the foot while she wasn’t looking. It was unrealistic but an apt analogy in her mind. _It's time to do something about this._

* * *

“You’re looking for me?” Scott asked, having typed the message on a datapad and holding it up for her. 

“Yeah.”

“Why do I feel like I am being punished,” he typed and showed it to her, before erasing everything and doing it all over again. “Why I am forced to type my responses when you can just speak yours?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Do you want this fucking non-stop, loud ass ringing in your ears that you can’t turn off?”

Scott clamped his mouth shut in response. Now that was clear enough for her to understand. “SAM,” she called out. “Privacy mode.”

There was a pause. SAM didn’t need a second to react. That was for the humans. He was an AI that worked faster than she could blink. The pause held more meaning and just stank of disapproval. Still, it didn’t matter. She was going to have her privacy one way or another. 

“Acknowledged, Pathfinder.”

“So what is this about?” Scott asked. 

“I want you to turn SAM's report back function off,” she said. Ryder waited, expecting some kind of opposition. 

“Why?”

"Because I don't need a babysitter. I'm done having something in my own head constantly judging and disapproving everything I do. One of those in my lifetime is enough."

Scott met her eyes. No words needed, he nodded. She was talking about their father. Obviously this was a controversial decision, but SAM was a helpful tool nothing more. He was not here to impose his rules on her, but just to assist. And she explained as much to her twin. 

“Will you help me?”

Scott’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he looked away. She needed his help to do this. There was no way she would be able to carry this out on her own. She was trained as a mechanic and sniper, he wasn’t. Scott was a scientist and skilled in both biology and tech. As much as she hated it, she was more her father’s daughter than she wanted to admit, while Scott took after their mother. If he refused her, she would have to find someone else. 

“Are you determined to do this?” he asked, his eyes bright as they met hers. 

Ryder nodded. 

“And you’re going to get this done no matter what?”

Another nod. 

“Even if I said no.”

“Yes.”

Scott sat in silence, starring at her for a long while. Ryder searched his face for any indication of his thoughts, but there was no clue. She took a deep breath. “Scott, will you help?”

Finally, he nodded, a glint in his eye. “For you, anything.”

* * *

Ryder took her time. Harper was overseeing the resupply while T’Perro was shepherding Drack and Nyx to the medical centre so that they could get properly checked out. The doctor extracted a promise from her to deliver herself to the medical centre after she took some time for herself. 

_Well, I won’t exactly be by myself._

Dark skin slipping under her shirt, cupping her breasts. His hands were always cool. And they were always so good at teasing, getting her worked up with the mere brush of his fingers along the right parts. She returned the favour with her tongue trailing down, always downwards. She always loved tasting him, eating all of him, driving him into a frenzy with her heat. 

They were fire and ice. They clashed and battled like elementals fighting for supremacy. Neither could triumph over the other for long. They were the sun and the moon, forever chasing but seldom meeting. It was a wonder they didn’t explode in a fiery conflagration. 

The thrill of anticipation ran down her spine. Ryder allowed a small upwards tug of her lips. She was overdue a visit, and now that it was at hand she relished the delayed gratification. 

Her first step - a shower. It was a ritual she enjoyed. Cleansing her body of the stink of booze, of the days being cooped up on the Tempest. She stepped out fresh and refreshed. Dressing was simple enough. The clothes didn’t matter after all they were just to keep up with social norms. Undergarments, by the same token, were worse than useless, they just got in the way. 

Ryder pulled on her Initiative tank top, in lieu of her usual long sleeve one. Her omni-cast made it difficult for anything with sleeves. Her pair of pants slipped on easily enough. And a zip-on hoodie completed the look. Even though her hair wasn’t quite dry, she pulled it up into a ponytail. Satisfied, she left the quarters. 

Among all the appointments she had to keep, one with Scott at SAM node, another at medical centre. She was only looking forward to the one where she was going to arrive at unannounced. _Maybe I can persuade one fine doctor to fix my arm for me?_

Despite the ringing, the ache in her arm, and even needing to wear the sling, Ryder had a slight spring in her step as she left the Tempest.

* * *

People nodded at her. Some smiled and waved. A rare few, those who refused to be deterred by her scowl and stride, would approach. “Are you the Pathfinder?” one seemed to call out as she passed, not that she could hear a thing.

Ryder’s jaw clenched and she moved faster. 

“Can I have an autograph? Can I take a holo with you?” another asked, waving a datapad, trying to catch her attention. At least that was what Ryder guessed was going on since she spied the publicity photo from the disasterous interview she gave in the aftermath of the battle for Meridian.

She was far too recognisable, too famous in her eyes. The long blonde ponytail, ice-blue eyes and white uniform were a dead giveaway. After all she was the Archon Killer, Saviour of Meridian. Ryder scoffed at the nickname when the extranet coined it, but it stuck. It wasn’t a problem until she had to deal with the public. 

“Pathfinder Ryder! Pathfinder Ryder!” Lips flapped and she could read her name on every single one of them. Those foolhardy souls chased her all the way to the tram.

Ryder prayed for relief when she got inside but it was not to be. It was midday on Meridian, the tram should have been relatively empty. Should have been being the operative word. She rolled her shoulders and straightened, refusing to bow under the weight of the multiple pairs of eyes on her. All those fucking muted whispers and finger pointing just made her bristled. 

_Now if I actually got naked, everyone would actually stop staring._

She snorted and got off at the medical centre. Her good mood from earlier had all but evaporated. Still, there was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. This was a familiar path. It was the route she took when she visited Scott while he was in a coma. It led to the man who promised he would do everything he could to bring her brother back to her. There was also the release she got whenever she came.

Heat pooled between her thighs. 

Ryder knew what she wanted and how to get it. She was never one who failed at her mission. The doors to the medical centre hissed open. She skirted the area where she knew T’Perro and the others would be. She wasn’t here for that, not yet at any rate. 

Ryder was here for one person and a single purpose. 

She stopped at the door she was looking for. It had a red holo-lock as usual, but she had never let that stopped her before. If he wasn’t in, she could wait. If he was in, they could get down to business. Ryder tapped on her omni-tool and deployed the military grade hack she had traded from a senior officer back in her Alliance days. It needed very little tweaks to work on Initiative security. 

Ten seconds later, the holo-lock flickered to an inviting green. She smirked. _He hadn’t learn his lesson. This is as good as an open door._ She pressed her good hand on the lock and the door slid open quietly. Her footsteps hush as she stepped across the threshold. The door closed behind her. 

Ryder froze. She went from hot to cold in an instant. 

Dr. Harry Carlyle had the look of ecstasy on his face. That in itself wasn’t odd. She had put that look on his face many times, both in the Milky Way and Andromeda. Many fucking times in this exact room, in that exact posture. 

What was strange was the woman sprawled across his desk, legs opened to accommodate the good doctor between her thighs. It was surreal to watch. Each thrust without the accompanying grunt. A face contorted in pleasure without the moans. The furniture jerked without hearing the squeak of skin against desk. 

The infernal ringing intensified. 

All Ryder could do was stare. It was all a jumbled mess. She couldn’t figure out what she was feeling, let alone the words for it. Surprise and shock, irritation and then surprisingly an overwhelming urge to drive her fist into the look of utter satisfaction on the woman’s face. 

“Who the fuck is she?” she spat. 

Carlyle didn’t bother to stop. Ryder endured two more slaps of flesh against flesh before she snapped. It was instinct driven, it was anger fuelled. With a quick twist of her hand, blue flames licked up her good hand. The woman, perky breasts, taut body and all, was wrenched from the table and yanked to the floor. Her mouth opened in shock before Ryder’s stasis froze the would-be scream in her throat. 

Carlyle jerked his head at her, his face contorted in an odd mix of thwarted gratification and annoyance. His lips flapped uselessly. She could only see her name falling out of his mouth a couple of times as his hand pointed at the naked woman. 

Her ears rang and rang. 

Ryder glared at him. Her eyes trained on the stiff shaft Carlyle was busy stuffing back into his pants. “She didn’t even get you naked.” she laughed. “And you’re fucking her? Really?”

She couldn’t understand the way the situation made her feel. They had no formal arrangement or an implied one. But she thought they had an understanding. _An understanding of what? Whatever it was, apparently I understood wrong._

It was a betrayal of a trust she didn’t know she had given. It was a slap across her face in the worst way possible. It was a sudden shedding of her apparent indifference, an unexpected realisation that she cared. And Ryder hated surprises. 

She growled low in her throat, all feral and sharp edges. Her ears whined, her head throbbed, her arm ached. The pent up emotions threatened to burst her at the seams. And like all pressure, it had to be released somewhere, somehow.

“Is she a better lay, Carlyle?” she shouted. “Tell me!”

Ryder’s control over her biotics was crude at best. She was no asari commando, she came to her powers late and was only trained in the Alliance basics. With the situation overwhelming her on all sides, her control was far from tight.

She jerked her hand outwards and unleashed her biotics. Everything that wasn’t nailed down was roughly yanked into the air. The field of debris swirled in a tight circle around her. With every turn, they spun faster. It didn’t matter if it were Initiative documents printed on actual paper, just the way Carlyle preferred to work, or if it was the datapads that always littered his table, or if it was the half empty cup of coffee, they twisted and slammed against each other. Datapads cracked, cup smashed, coffee splashed and papers crumpled. 

Ryder was a one-woman storm. But her anger was far from abated. She relished the look of shock on the woman’s face, glaring at Carlyle through the maelstrom. He held her gaze even though he flinched when pieces zoomed too closely. She bared her teeth. 

“Did you fucking enjoyed yourself? Your dick got its satisfaction? How many rounds did you go, fucker?”

Ryder turned her attention back to the woman. Naked, spread-eagle, pressed into the floor was probably not how she had imagined her day to go. Ryder studied the woman’s bare flesh, dark hair and fair skin. It was as opposite to her as Carlyle could get. _There is a message here. Maybe he is trying to tell me something._

The entire situation was comically infuriating. She was feeling too much and too little. Her eyes crinkled in furious mirth. She was the bizarre star of some shitty silent movie. Carlyle opened and closed his mouth, flapping his lips at her, but she heard nothing. The ringing was now the wall she hid behind. The entire situation was hilarious, but why did she feel so raw, so exposed?

Carlyle was visibly pissed. Every line of his body radiated frustration, impatience and tightly controlled anger. But there was nothing he could do, not with a churning wall of mess separating them. Ryder laughed, shoulders shaking, belly aching laughter. When she got herself under control again, Carlyle had his eyes turned upwards in that telltale way people always did when they spoke to SAM. 

_SAM again, SAM fucking SAM again._

Before Ryder could complete the thought, a pain sharper than before found her implant and stabbed it. She gasped, the agony took breath from her lungs. She bent over, pressing a hand to her temple. It was a searing sensation that flared from her implant through her brain stem into her head. It shattered her control. Everything was flung out in a circle around her. They were indiscriminate in what they struck and how hard they hit. One shattered corner of a datapad saw fit to zip past Carlyle’s head. 

His voice echoed inside her throbbing head. “Are you quite done?” he growled, his voice sharp, his words curt. 

Her eyes watered as she forced herself upright again. She noticed the cut he had on his forehead with vindictive satisfaction. Her stasis over the woman had fizzled and died, but the woman remained still. Her fearful eyes darted between them as the stink of urine rose. 

Ryder snorted. “This is who you thought could do better than me?”

She cast her eyes about and found the woman’s clothes in a sad little heap on the floor. It was a white lab coat with a name tag on it. “Kim, huh,” Ryder said. “How _is_ Kim?”

“Enough!” Carlyle shouted, the volume sent feedback into her already pounding head. 

“Quite right, Dr. Carlyle,” she spat, “I had enough. Enough of you, SAM and this shit.”

Kim took the distraction and got to her feet in a flash. She rushed towards the door, neglecting to grab her clothes. Her mouth was opened wide in a scream Ryder couldn’t hear. She couldn’t care less about Kim. The target of her ire was Carlyle. 

“Get out of my office, Ryder,” he said, his hazel eyes levelled at her. 

Even now, his mere gaze sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted, she demanded, and she needed his fucking hands on her. She could easily give him the release he needed. And he hers. But her anger expected payment.  

Ryder bared her teeth, ignoring the screaming pain that flared up her bad arm as she pulled it out of the sling. “Fuck you Carlyle,” she growled and flung the sling in his face. 

She smashed her bad arm against the holo-lock, needing the pain to clear her mind. Unleashing her temper on his office was one thing, doing that on the rest of Meridian would be stupid. Whatever else Ryder was, stupid wasn't one of them. She didn’t need more shit. 

Without a backward look, Ryder walked out. She stabbed her finger at her omni-tool, quickly typing out a message to her brother. 

“I want this done now. Meet me at SAM node.”

* * *

Ryder watched as her brother worked on the terminal, interfacing directly with the AI's heart in a way she didn’t understand. The blue orb in front of her flickered. 

“What is happening?” SAM asked directly via her implant. 

“What should have been done in the first place,” Ryder replied with grim determination. 

“Have I done something wrong? I learn and adapt in new ways through you. I believe I have acted in your best interest,” SAM continued. 

“You are here to assist me to do my job. You are not here to be my parent and decide what I should do,” she growled. 

Scott looked up and stared at her. _Fuck, I spoke that out loud._

“Are you done?” This question she directed at her brother. 

He narrowed his eyes at her and went back to typing on the terminal. “But Pathfinder by limiting my ability to report about your physical condition to Dr. T'Perro would severely disrupt my capabilities,” SAM said. 

It was odd to hear a sentient being basically begging her in such a toneless voice. SAM's purpose was singular, to assist the Pathfinder to do their job. And in this case, she was Pathfinder. His job terminated the moment they were not on a mission. She didn’t want, didn’t need, SAM meddling in anything else. She had enough shit taking up space in her head as it was. “You will have full access during missions,” she said, rubbing her temple again, “but nothing beyond that.”

“But-"

“Shut up, SAM. Just fucking shut up.”

What had been a highly anticipated day of pleasure had taken an unexpected turn and fell down the stairs hitting everything it could in its path. Ryder never felt more wrung out and exhausted. She wanted it to all be over. Closing her eyes, she lay down flat on the floor next to Scott. 

_How long ago was it when I laid here, half dead from being made Pathfinder?_

The thought bounced around inside the ringing darkness behind her closed eyes. The thought brought a shudder down her spine. Death wasn’t something she cared to examine. She was a soldier, she led the vanguard team in first contact. It was always a possibility, but not something she needed to think about. 

A hand shook her shoulder, and she jerked upright. Scott was looking at her, his eyes shining with eagerness. _Count on tech to get him excited._ He waved a cable at her and mimed putting it into the back of his neck. 

Ryder frowned. But she turned and pulled her hair aside, giving him access to her implant that rested near her amp port. Scott took care to brush aside any stray hair before plugging it into her implant. There was no pain really, just an unpleasant buzzing that ran up her head. Her headache intensified. Ryder squeezed her eyes shut and let Scott worked. 

It didn’t take long. Scott unplugged the wire. She sighed with relief. “Done?”

Scott nodded.

**The interview referenced in this chapter is covered in[Deadly Star](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523444)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	8. Asshole or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The officers visibly shrank at the sight of the krogan. Drack narrowed his dragon-like eyes at them before turning to her. “Trouble?”
> 
> Ryder shook her head. “Not anymore.”
> 
> Drack squeezed his bulk passed the officers, armour. and all. He sat down, positioning himself between her and the officers. It was amusing how protectively he was but it was a really tight squeeze. He slid one glass over to her. She put lips to glass and sipped. That second officer cleared his throat. “Madam, I still need you to go down with us.”
> 
> She sat there for a minute, sipping her drink. The officer was persistent she’d gave him that. “And you’re going to stand there till I do?”
> 
> He nodded. Drack started to surge to his feet when Ryder shook her head. “It’s fine, Drack,” she said before turning back to the officer. “Then you can stand there till I finish my drink.”
> 
> And that was how she ended up at Meridian Security Headquarters, standing in front of Kim, being identified. _Kim, that fucking woman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! Harry is gracing a cover! And still we're dealing with the fallout from that biotic tantrum.
> 
> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover and chapter art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori](https://www.seokanori.com). Check out her [Tumblr](https://seokanori.tumblr.com/) and [website](https://www.seokanori.com)

Ryder trudged towards the medical centre. Today was shaping up to be as bad as yesterday. She had next to no sleep. T’Perro had insisted she fasted since she was going to get her arm operated on. So Ryder went to bed painfully sober. She would have complied anyway, but somehow the doctor managed to get Drack in on the plan. And the krogan babysat her. 

Ryder glared at Drack walking behind her. He flashed her his set of sharp teeth. She rolled her eyes. T’Perro was already there, checking in on Nyx who had a surgery of her own to repair her hearing. 

As she stepped into the surgical ward, Drack stopped just outside. Ryder cocked her head at him. He shook head. “I’ll see you when you’re done,’ he said via the omni-tool. With a causal wave of his claw, he shooed her inside. 

Ryder shook her head and walked on alone. She understood Drack’s distaste for hospitals. She was pretty much the same way. She wouldn’t be here if her injury didn’t affect her work. 

_Liar, you did nothing with that hole in your hand._

She ground her good hand against her temple. It was just like her shitty head to start talking to her. It didn’t take long to find the correct room. The door slid open to reveal a face she wanted very much to avoid - Dr. Harry Carlyle. The good doctor’s hazel eyes met hers straight on. She glared back. The irrational jealousy flared up again in an instant. Anger coursing through her.

“No,” she declared. 

The others in the room looked at her confused. This ringing ears routine was getting real old for her and apparently T’Perro as well. The asari frowned, her eyes darted between Ryder and Carlyle. Her blue eyes narrowed. 

The weird non-relationship she had with Carlyle wasn’t exactly a secret. Ryder didn’t care if the entire Andromeda knew she had been fucking him. That was never a problem. 

_So what is exactly the problem?_ She had no answer for the asshole voice in her head. 

Instead, she levelled her index finger at Carlyle and repeated, “No. Not him. Get another doctor to do it.”

T’Perro turned to Carlyle, and they spoke. The conversation was short. And it ended with a firm shake of Carlyle’s head. Ryder never wanted to rid herself of the ringing more. In the end, T’Perro tapped her omni-tool. Her implant shot a violent lancing pain up her neck. She winced and pressed her hand against the wall for support. Carlyle’s arm shot out instantly to steady her. But she fended him off with a look. 

“Are you all right?” T’Perro asked through the implant. 

“Fine,” she ground out through clenched teeth. 

T’Perro stared at her, completely unconvinced. She gestured at Carlyle who retracted his arms again. He kept them folded across his chest as he studiously keeping his eyes on T’Perro. “Dr. Carlyle will have to carry out the surgery. He is the only one besides me authorised to treat Pathfinders. This is the Nexus’ protocol.”

If she could, Ryder would frown so hard her skull would start creasing. “Why can’t you do it?” she directed her stare at T’Perro. 

“I will be assisting.”

Ryder’s jaw set as she exhaled sharply. “Fine. Let’s get this done.”

* * *

They had her change into a standard shapeless medical gown. Ryder’s mouth twisted with distaste but did it without complaint. Carlyle disappeared from the room after conferring with T’Perro over scans of her arm, leaving the asari to oversee prepping the patient. 

_Just like him to be the coward to leave the Pathfinder wrangling to another._

A gurney was brought in and she climbed on and lay down. The strips of lights streaked passed overhead as they wheeled her to the operating theatre. “Is Scott here with you?” T’Perro asked. 

Ryder grunted. “No, it’s just me. Drack is hanging around outside.”

The asari nodded absently, not truly interested in her response. She sighed and bit back her usual retort. As much as she wanted to put on a false front, Ryder felt alone. _No, I am not scared, just uneasy. Uneasy._

“How’s the ringing?” T’Perro asked. 

She turned to meet the asari’s eyes. Blue meeting blue. “Do you really want to know or are you filling empty air?”

“I am your doctor. I need to know.”

Ryder pointedly turned her attention back to the ceiling again. “Still ringing, still fucking irritating.”

T’Perro nodded and noted it down on her omni-tool. Mercifully there weren’t any further questions. She was happy to tolerate the ringing if T’Perro would just shut up. 

Pretty soon, they reached the theatre, and she was gestured to get on the operating table. There was no question which one was Carlyle even though all the medical professionals were hidden behind masks and shapeless operating gear. His hazel eyes found hers easily enough, but they were hard and flinty. _Nothing new there._ He looked away, dismissing her as if she wasn’t important. 

The dismissal stung. Ryder lifted her chin and ground her teeth together. _Two can play at the fucking game._ She climbed onto the table and the nurses got to work. They were attaching electrodes on her chest, setting up IV port on her good hand and deactivating the omni-cast. 

T’Perro was moving back and forth at the edges of her vision, her mouth moving as she conferred with the others. Ryder closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her. 

"Ryder," T'Perro said, pulling her attention. 

She opened her eyes again to see the doctor waving a syringe in front of her face. She flinched. 

"Roll over," T'Perro instructed. 

Ryder eyed the syringe warily, not moving. "What's that?" she asked instead. 

The doctor sighed, visibly inpatient. She pressed against Ryder's shoulder to indicate she should move. "Roll over" she repeated.

Ryder's eyes flicked over to the others within her field of vision. Everyone else was busy, and nobody cared to answer. Her heart rate spiked. Mistrust was making her stubborn. T'Perro was about to insist. The pressure against her shoulder grew stronger when her attention was pulled away. Ryder craned her neck to find Carlyle speaking to T'Perro. The whining in her ears just grew stronger. 

Whatever passed between the doctors was quick, Carlyle took the syringe from T'Perro and took her place. His gloved hand hot against her cool skin. She shivered. "It's a biotic suppressant." he said. "Turn over. This needs to go into your amp port."

She relented and rolled. Carlyle wasn't kind, but he wasn't rough. A quick wipe of disinfectant over her skin and the syringe pierced through. Her breath hitched, and the liquid burnt its way into her port. With a finger on her shoulder, he indicated she could turn back onto her back. No additional words were exchanged, everything was cold, professional and sterile. 

She swallowed, she had expected to feel marginally better being in the medical centre than being at the mercy of T’Perro on the Tempest. Drack was outside and he would not allow her to be kept under longer than needed. But her muscles were tensed as she held herself rigid on the cold table. Ryder stared a hole into the ceiling as a mask was pressed over her nose and mouth. She stubbornly kept her eyes open for as long as she could even though her vision was tunnelling as an icy fire crept up her veins through the IV. 

_Maybe now I can get some fucking sleep. Fuck this ringing and give me the good stuff…_

* * *

Ryder stood ramrod straight, but she was feeling all her 623 years at the moment. Her senses and emotions felt muted, like the anaesthesia was not letting go of her. But she figured after being sliced open and meddled with, it was normal to feel that way. Though her arm was still sore from the surgery, it was now a dull throb of healing. It rested safely in a brand new sling as she faced the turian Meridian security officer. 

_Thank fuck my hearing is back._

Officer Rulia Stracus looked patiently at the woman. “Is this the person?” she asked gently.

_The fucking woman._

Ryder bit the inside of her cheek and fought to hold her tongue. 

One day after the surgery, right after she had escaped from T’Perro’s clutches, she was all set to celebrate the return of her hearing by trying out the new pub that had opened since she last was on the Hyperion. 

“Sit here, I’ll be right back with good shit,” Drack said. “You better keep that arm of yours out of trouble for a while.”

Ryder snorted but appreciated the thought as she settled into a corner booth. She bobbed her head up and down in time to the thumping baseline, savouring every single sound she could hear. Her eyes drifted to the patrons dancing at the dance floor. The writhing and gyrating mess of flesh pressing against plates against hides. A smile tugged at her lips as she considered one of the dancers. Her eyes flicked towards Drack who was wading through the sea of people towards the bar when she caught sight of two uniformed security officers making a beeline towards her. 

Ryder shifted her back against the wall. Her hand slid down towards her thigh and finding it empty. _Shit._ Old habits were hard to break. She ewas used to running away from the law instead of towards it as a rule. Sometimes she forgot she was what passed for the law out at the outposts. The pair stopped at her booth effectively hemming her in. She exhaled, reminding herself she wasn’t a kid anymore, and she did nothing wrong. 

“Madam, I need you to return to the Meridian Security Headquarters to assist an investigation,” one said. 

“I’m off duty, I’m not going anywhere,” she replied testily, suddenly craving for that drink. Drack had made it to the front by shouldering everyone else out of the way. 

“Madam, this isn’t a request,” the other said, his hand resting to his pistol. 

Ryder’s eyes caught the movement and her eyes flicked up at the officer. Her eyes hardened. The officer’s arm tensed. Before either one of them could speak, Drack clomped over with two tiny glasses in his massive hand. “What’s going on?”

The officers visibly shrank at the sight of the krogan. Drack narrowed his dragon-like eyes at them before turning to her. “Trouble?”

Ryder shook her head. “Not anymore.”

Drack squeezed his bulk passed the officers, armour. and all. He sat down, positioning himself between her and the officers. It was amusing how protectively he was but it was a really tight squeeze. He slid one glass over to her. She put lips to glass and sipped. That second officer cleared his throat. “Madam, I still need you to go down with us.”

She sat there for a minute, sipping her drink. The officer was persistent she’d gave him that. “And you’re going to stand there till I do?”

He nodded. Drack started to surge to his feet when Ryder shook her head. “It’s fine, Drack,” she said before turning back to the officer. “Then you can stand there till I finish my drink.”

And that was how she ended up at Meridian Security Headquarters, standing in front of Kim, being identified. _Kim, that fucking woman._

Officer Stracus repeated the question. “Is this the person?”

Kim nodded before making a big show of shrinking away from her. “Can you keep me safe, you promised you will keep me safe,” she wailed. 

Ryder snorted and Kim flinched. She sniggered as Stracus shot her a look. She rolled her eyes. “Pathfinder, follow me,” Stracus sighed.

She sank into a chair that was so damn familiar. An interview room in Andromeda was exactly like the one C-Sec had on the Citadel. Cold furniture, hard chairs, windowless boxes, all of them. Usually this was the point where she would ask her cuffs to be removed but nobody had cuffed her. For once, she wasn’t dragged in. She came on her own accord. She was the Pathfinder now, she was afforded some allowances. 

“So…” Stracus’ voice trailed off, unsure how to proceed. 

“So?” Ryder echoed. 

“You…” Stracus sighed and cleared her throat, both of them. “Pathfinder, do you admit that you have trashed Dr. Harry Carlyle’s office?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“And then you used your biotics on the victim-" Ryder rolled her eyes again at that label. “-when you found them…” Stracus’ voice trailed off again. 

“Fucking,” she helpfully filled in. “The word you’re looking for is fucking, officer.”

Stracus nodded curtly. “That. Yes. Do you admit to that second thing too?”

She shrugged again. “Sure, whatever. If you really want to call it that. Yeah, I did.”

The turian officer’s mandibles flapped agitatedly. “Do you have anything to offer in the way of explanation? Like if Dr. Carlyle is your boyfriend, and he is cheating?”

Ryder sighed, her eyes darted from looking in the middle distance to Stracus. The words wouldn’t come because none fit. _Boyfriend? That's laughable. Who is Harry Carlyle, really? He is not my father. He is not my keeper. What is he?_

“Does it matter?” she asked instead.

_What the fuck is he to me, other than a fucking asshole?_

Stracus’ mandibles tightened against her face. “This is a shit show. You’re not making my job any easier, Pathfinder,” she sighed and stood. “Normally, I’d have to arrest you but you’re the Pathfinder. The normal rules don’t apply. I’ll have to send this up the chain.”

Ryder expected as much. “So could you sit here and stay out of trouble?” Stracus asked.

She leaned back against the chair and made herself comfortable. And she was good at her word. She mostly fiddled with the software Scott had installed on her omni-tool that allowed her to set the different privacy settings for SAM. Lazily, she swiped through several pages of toggles and dials. The only thing she turned off was the authority to report any non-life threatening issues to T’Perro. And by extension to Tann. Everything else Ryder left as they were. 

Once that was done, she was bored. The surgery had done wonders for her. It fixed her arm and her hearing came back when she woke up. Sitting alone in the room with her thoughts wasn’t fun. She had a kett temple to find. 

Eventually the door slid open. Stracus asked, “Can you come with me?”

Ryder stood and stretched. Her spine popping as she worked the kinks out of her muscles. As she stepped out, she saw Carlyle standing next to _dear Kim_. She stiffened before snorting. 

“Let’s get this straight,” a salarian officer was speaking to Carlyle as she neared. “Do you want to press charges against Sara Ryder?”

“No.” 

Ryder raised an eyebrow. There was no hesitation in his answer. She kept her eyes on _dear fucking Kim_. Kim’s eyes widened before stabbing a finger in her direction. “Harry, you’re not pressing charges on this crazy bitch who almost killed me?” she demanded. 

“No.” Carlyle levelled his icy cool eyes at _dear Kim_. “Get a grip on yourself Trevor. It was a temper tantrum nothing more. And you weren’t hurt.”

Ryder’s eyes flicked to the cut at Carlyle’s forehead. Her jaw tightened minutely. She jerked levelled her eyes at Kim. The woman managed to look dismay and even more afraid of her when she was standing fully clothed and flanked by Meridian Security Officers. Stracus stepped forward. “I’m sorry Dr Carlyle, it is not your call to press charges or not. The damage was done to Meridian property. It would be Mayor Dunn’s or Director Tann’s call. Do you want to press any personal charges regarding your injury?” 

Carlyle raised his hand and touched the healing cut. His eyes met hers for a moment. “No.”

Stracus turned to Kim. “What about you?”

Kim shuffled closer to Carlyle as if trying to hide behind him. He tsked and stepped away, pulling away from the little circle they had formed. Ryder sighed and rubbed at her temple. 

“No, I guess not,” Kim managed to sputter as she fumed. 

Stracus nodded, her shoulders relaxing as she turned to Kim and Carlyle. “Thank you for your time. You are free to go now.”

Kim grabbed her things and left in a huff while Carlyle lingered. Ryder shifted her weight from one leg to another. She ignored him, keeping her attention on Stracus. 

“Ryder.”

She gave him a flat stare. “What?”

“How’s the pain?” he asked, his omni-tool already out and scanning her. 

“You’re not my doctor. What are you trying to do?” she asked. “Just fuck off.”

Carlyle brushed her rude answer aside nonchalantly. Ryder ground her teeth and squared her shoulders. Stracus’ mandibles flapped anxiously but hadn’t intervened. 

“I am your doctor. I treat all the Pathfinders and you are a Pathfinder,” he replied as studied the results of his scans.

Seeing him unmoved by her barbs and all around stand-offishness was more than infuriating. Before she could speak he de-activated his omni-tool. “And I can see I am just making your blood pressure rise. I’ll confer with Dr. T’Perro with your continued care in her hands.”

He nodded once at Stracus before taking his leave. Ryder watched with her mouth agape. _Fuck you, Carlyle and your professionalism._

Then, a troop of uniformed officers hurried out. Stracus straightened and shouted after them. “What’s going on?”

“There has been another one,” one answered on the way out. 

“Another what?” Ryder asked as she found an empty chair. 

Stracus shook her head. “Bad business all around. Murder.”

“How many had there been?” Ryder asked, her brow furrowing. 

“One yesterday and well, another now. I hope the murders weren’t connected.”

“Ugly?”

Stracus nodded, her mandibles pressed tight against her face. “Worst I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some shit.”

Ryder nodded. “These murders must be catching.”

* * *

“What were you thinking?” Tann screeched at her via the vidcall. 

He didn’t even pause and give her a chance to speak. Clearly, her side of the conversation wasn’t needed. 

“You were clearly not thinking! You, Sara Ryder, are a Pathfinder. You have an image to uphold. You are representing me-" _Ahh there it is, truth._ "- and the Initiative. This isn’t becoming of an Initiative employee let alone the Pathfinder who is known as the Archon Killer.”

Ryder waited. _Has he run out of steam?”_ Tann was panting. She bit back the snort of laughter that threatened to burst forth. “So what’s the verdict?” she asked. 

Tann cleared his throat. “You will need to pay for the damages. That’s it. I’ve smoothed things over with Mayor Dunn.”

She cocked her head. _Do I have credits to pay?_ “All right, I will get Scott to send the money over,” she said, her finger reaching out, ready to terminate the vidcall. 

“Ryder,” Tann spoke before she could reach the button. 

_Damn, I should move faster the next time._

“Please, try to stay out of trouble,” he begged. 

She nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	9. Lost Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder had to escape the bridge. The dull tension across her neck and shoulders had bloomed into a full blown headache. The almost hostile atmosphere in the Bridge didn’t help matters. Once she was sure nobody was going to start a screaming match, she retreated to the armoury. Leaving Scott, Anwar and Jarth to sort things out themselves. 
> 
> She had gone back to feeling useless and redundant. While training was back in the list of things she was allowed, missions were still out of the questions as far as T’Perro was concerned. _It’s probably all Carlyle’s doing._
> 
> Ryder sighed and pulled her weapons from storage. “Oh fuck.” 
> 
> They were stashed in the locker before it was cleaned. Her weapons were completely caked in dried blood and slime. “Well at least I won’t be bored.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover and chapter art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori](https://www.seokanori.com). Check out her [Tumblr](https://seokanori.tumblr.com/) and [website](https://www.seokanori.com)

The woman with dreadlocks grinned at her, challenging. A finger curled towards her, taunting. A rusty nail and hammer in her hands glinted in the shadows, mocking. 

She would stand for none of this. Her body screamed as pain flared to life. It didn’t matter. The bitch asked for it and she would deliver. Lunging, she dove towards the bitch. A tinkle of laughter, bitter and scornful, rang out as the bitch melted back into the enveloping darkness around them. Her hands found nothing but wisps turning into smoke and ashes. 

“Stand and fight, bitch!” she roared her fury into the void. 

The only answer was a cackle. It wind her tighter and tighter. Despite working herself free from the table, she was still anchored to it. It held the only point of illumination. Everywhere else was an impenetrable gloom. It made no difference if she was strapped down or not. She was still trapped. 

Shrieks echoed, alternatingly close and far away. Hoarse voices begging, pleading and crying. “Please, please, please. Just kill me, just kill me. No more, I can’t. Just no more!”

She pressed her hands over her ears but the words echoed inside her head, pressing and pushing from all sides. Whispers that promised safety, rescue and support rose and retreated. Buzzing voices, screaming pleas surged and crashed like waves. It was endless. It was too much. It was overwhelming.

“Stop!” she roared. “Shut up!”

Her shoulders set as she launched herself away from the only island of light. She ran headlong into the shadows. Shrieks intensified, whispers turned to demands. Darkness wasn’t the warm blanket that came with sleep. It was the strangling tendrils that ambushed, rendering her immobile. It was poison she breathed in, filling her with rage. The mocking laughter swirled, approaching with each circuit. 

Closer and closer and closer. 

The bitch emerged, glowing an eerie red, nail and hammer ready. 

“No, fuck no,” she screamed her impotent fury, struggling against bonds made of shadow. 

Her limbs weren’t completely locked down. She could move. Teeth gnashing, muscles cording, she strained against her bonds. The bitch lifted her face. A sharp intake of breath as shock rattled through her. 

It wasn’t the bitch, it was Harper. 

She frowned. Words failed her. Never had she ever expected this. 

Faces flickered and changed like a holo malfunctioning. It cycled through the faces, stopping at Carlyle, Nyx, Drack and everyone else she knew before settling back on Harper again. 

Blue eyes so brilliant they glowed. A grin so wide it threatened to split skin. Teeth turned fangs as blood poured from the gaping slit of a mouth. 

“Die, Ryder! Die!” 

The nail came straight down. “No!” she shouted.

Her eyes wide, her limbs straining but she was helpless again. The sharp point pierced her throat in a searing bright pain. She screamed as she choked on her own blood.

* * *

Ryder sat upright in her chair. A buzzing that ran from her core surged outwards. Anything not nailed down shot away from her like a missile. Datapads, loose papers, empty cup, even a table lamp along with empty booze bottles and more were sent scattering. 

Her breath was loud in her ears as her pulse throbbed hard against her temple. She winced and pressed her hand to the back of her neck. It burnt. Her amp was hot, searingly so. 

Ryder stood up abruptly, stumbling away from the mess. Her limbs weighed like anchors. It didn’t feel like she had just woken up, she was utterly drained. The only other time she felt this way was after fighting the Archon and his forces on Meridian.

“What the fuck,” she exhaled as her lungs heaved, desperate for more air. “Fucking nightmare.”

She dashed away the tears that sprang unbidden. Only her terminal, the now empty glass shelves and SAM’s blue orb escaped unscathed. “What the fuck happened?”

SAM remained curiously silent. Ryder had expected admonishment for drinking, suggestions to see T’Perro and just all around fix herself. The blue orb flickered and shimmered silently, not saying a single word. 

She pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and rubbed her face, trying to work some feeling back into her skin. Then, she remembered. _Fuck, yeah I’ve turned off his nanny tendencies._

“I don’t need this shit,” she muttered as she pushed the shattered pieces of what used to be on her desk to the side. “I need a fucking shower.”

* * *

Ryder looked at her omni-tool, scanning headlines. Article after articles of the murders she heard about while on Meridian. The press confirmed a serial killer was loose on Andromeda and they had dubbed them the Cutter. She couldn’t help find the nickname familiar. _Where had I heard of it before?_ So far three murders, one on the Nexus and two on Meridian, were attributed to the Cutter. What scant details were allowed in the articles had told her that the nickname was apt. 

She frowned, of all things to import from the Milky Way, they took their psychos along. But then again living in Andromeda wasn’t easy, it wasn’t surprising that someone snapped. 

“Probe launched,” Anwar said. 

And that interrupted her thoughts. Ryder dismissed the articles and looked up. After the excitement of Ditivios, they were all a little more careful when it came to planets with a weather system that was hostile to orbital scanning. She stood on the bridge and watched. Her arms folded across her chest, keen eyes tracked Scott’s pacing. 

He nodded, bending over Anwar’s chair to stare at her monitor. He made an impatient noise. “You were off by 2.65 degrees,” he said. “The readings won’t be accurate.”

“The probe allows for deviation up to 10 degrees,” Anwar replied, her voice tight and curt. 

“Yes but that’s not the point right? It’s our job as scientists to be as accurate as possible in our fact finding. We are dealing with so much variables as it is,” he pointed out. 

Jarth exhaled sharply. “Scott,” he started.

“Kallo, leave it,” Anwar interjected. “This is between me and Scott.”

Scott turned and levelled a withering look at Jarth. Ryder could see the pilot bristling. She sighed. “Guys,” she said as she clapped her hands. 

All three spun and stared at her. _Good, I’ve got their attention._ “Let’s scan some planets? I don’t want to be stuck over the Tafeno system all week. We have some lost time to make up for.”

Anwar cleared her throat and turned back to her work. “Preparing the second probe,” she said. 

And that was the way it went. Anwar and Scott went back and forth over the readings they got from the probes. Jarth making angry noises from his side of the bridge. Ryder squeezed the bridge of her nose and watched. As long as Jarth kept his angry noises to just noises she was happy to let him continue. As far as she was concerned, as long as the job got done, it didn't matter how it was completed. 

The theoretical kett temple was looking more and more concrete as more data from the cache was decrypted. However, there were still zettabytes of data neither Ama Darav nor Nyx could make heads or tails of. The angara was getting antsy, and Ryder understood his anxiety. But with the Tempest the only ship the Nexus equipped for the task, it was slow going. 

Ryder had to escape the bridge. The dull tension across her neck and shoulders had bloomed into a full blown headache. The almost hostile atmosphere in the Bridge didn’t help matters. Once she was sure nobody was going to start a screaming match, she retreated to the armoury. Leaving Scott, Anwar and Jarth to sort things out themselves. 

She had gone back to feeling useless and redundant. While training was back in the list of things she was allowed, missions were still out of the questions as far as T’Perro was concerned. _It’s probably all Carlyle’s doing._

Ryder sighed and pulled her weapons from storage. “Oh fuck.” 

They were stashed in the locker before it was cleaned. Her weapons were completely caked in dried blood and slime. “Well at least I won’t be bored.”

* * *

“Ryder!” 

Ryder jerked upright and blinked. 

“Are you ok?” Kosta asked. 

She glanced about blearily. She was in the cargo bay. _Wasn’t I cleaning my weapons just..._ Her thoughts drifted away as she looked at her hands. They were still caked in gun oil and who knew what else. 

“Ah fuck!” she exclaimed, grimacing at her hands. 

Ryder cast about for something to clean her hands with. Kosta tossed a rag over. She fumbled the catch and it fell on the floor. She let an exasperated breath sharply out through her nose as she snatched it up. Running the cloth roughly over her hands, confusion and irritation was just boiling below the surface. 

“You got some on your face,” Kosta gestured at his own face. 

Her hands fell limp at her side. It was probably easier to take a shower. She frowned. “What happened?” Kosta asked. “It’s odd to see you dozing in the cargo bay. This is only something Gil would do.”

“Hey!” Brodie’s voice drifted over from under the Nomad. “I’ll have you know that I am working, hard. All the time.”

Kosta just laughed. Ryder ignored them and made her way out, leaving the boys to have their socialising. 

Her stomach growled as she passed the galley. _When did I eat? Did I eat?_ Glancing at her omni-tool, it told her it was near evening ship time. _Maybe that’s just it, I’ve forgotten to eat. Food first, shower later._ Sighing, she entered to find B’Sayle with an unwrapped ration bar in her mouth and a handful in another. 

“Oh. Hi Ryder,” she said as she hastily stuffed the bars into her pocket. 

“Isn’t that mine?” Ryder asked, her eyes flicked towards the opened cabinet where her ration bars were usually stored. 

“Erm…”

“B’Sayle, are you eating my stuff?” Ryder pressed. 

“Sorry!” she blurted before darting for the door. “But I like them!”

Ryder growled but made no move to stop the asari. _Nobody likes them._ The nightmare had derailed her day in a way she had never experienced before. Most times she could shake it off, but today nothing felt right. 

The door was still open as Ryder moved to get a ration bar for herself when B’Sayle popped her head back in. “You’re ok? You’re not mad?” she asked, surprise and puzzlement written all over her face. 

Ryder gave her a flat eyed stare. B’Sayle blanched and held her hands up. “No need for biotics. I’ll replace them the next time we resupply. Here!”

The asari tossed the bars she had in her pockets back at Ryder before scurrying off. Ryder frowned. _Biotics? I didn’t do anything._ As she raised a hand to close the cabinet, she realised her hand was shimmering blue. 

“What the fuck.”

She looked at her other hand and it was fine. It was only her left one. “What the fuck is going on?”

Confusion warred with frustration. Taking a deep breath, she made a conscious effort to rein it back. Her amp flared hot for an instant and the blue flames flickered out abruptly like someone had flipped a switch. 

Ryder grunted and picked the bars up. As she straightened, Nyx and Harper walked in. Nyx cocked her head and asked, “What happened? Peebee was blabbing something about you, biotics and ration bars.”

She shrugged, gathering the bars in her hands and sliding onto the bench. Harper eyed her warily while Nyx checked the pot on the warmer. 

“Can’t keep your anger in check, Pathfinder?” Harper asked. Ryder could practically hear the sneer without looking at her second. “Like the woman you scared shitless on Meridian?” 

The question felt like a slap across her face. She looked up and stared at Harper. The silence in the room suddenly heavy and charged. Nyx cleared her throat and exclaimed a little too cheerily, “Hmm! Drack made my favourite! Adhi stew,” she cooed as she took a helping. “Want some, Ryder?”

Normally, Ryder was happy to keep the tension on, even throwing a couple of well timed biotic flares if only to get a reaction, but she could barely summon the energy to care. She chewed a mouthful of ration bar and shrugged, still keeping her eye on Harper. “Sure.”

Nyx made a big show of ladling out two helpings and sliding a bowl over to her. Harper snorted and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Couldn’t even keep your man happy.”

Ryder stiffened. “Cora, that’s uncalled for,” Nyx protested

Harper shrugged. Ryder ground her teeth, allowing the silence to stretch. It was broken only by the scrape of bowl against table as she pulled it closer to herself. Harper seemed to have mistaken silence for weakness. Her lips curled, smirking as if she had won. “Cat got your tongue?”

Ryder snapped. Her weariness erased in an instant. Her hand whipped out like a snake. The bowl slammed against the wall with a clang, right next to Harper’s head. If it was made of glass, the shards would have done an excellent job in cutting her face, maybe even blinding her. 

_Alas, it is a fucking plastic bowl._

But Harper wasn’t immune to scalding hot stew. She yelped and jerked away. “Goddess! Ryder, you’re crazy! You’re unfit to be the Pathfinder. I’ll make sure Tann hears of this.” 

With that her second-in-command spun on her heels and escaped. Ryder sighed and braced herself against the table. Her energy draining. 

Nyx looked at her anxiously. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled. 

The turian shook her head and started to clean the mess up. “It’s fine.”

She found a rag and joined Nyx. They worked silently, without needing words. She handed the soiled rag to Nyx in exchange for a newly wrung out one. And pretty soon the Galley looked like nothing had happened. Well other than the slight scratch on the wall where the bowl met it. 

“Still hungry?” Nyx asked. 

Ryder sighed and shook her head. “I’m think I’m going to sleep.”

“All right.”

She exited, leaving her half eaten ration bar on the table, not seeing the worry in Nyx’s eyes. 

* * *

Whispers of madness, hands turned claws, familiar turned strange.

Ryder jerked awake. Her eyes darted about as she glanced around her. She frowned. 

_How?_

Most of the others were talking amongst themselves. Scott was busy tapping on his omni-tool before looking up and saw her looking. He smiled before his attention was called away by Harper. 

Ryder scowled. _How did I get here? What are we doing?_

A strange sensation took up residence in her chest. It was stone cold ice, it was lead heavy anchor, it was tongue curling bitter. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to remember something, anything. But there was nothing. And it scared her. 

_What was I doing last?_

Almost frantically, she tapped at her omni-tool to check the time. Ship time 1400 hour. She exhaled sharply and caught Drack’s yellow pupils narrowing as he focused on her. His brow ridges crunching together in a questioning look. She shook her head. 

Dread was the stone that settled in her chest. Her pulse pounded loudly in her ear.

_I remember going to bed. Then… nothing._

The gap in her memory was a yawning chasm. She had been black-out drunk before, but those times she could at least remember starting to drink. And she didn’t drink yesterday. She had been stone cold sober for days. 

This was something completely different. It felt like her memories were edited. A clean cut and lift, the intervening time was completely deleted from existence. There was an existential question in there somewhere, but Ryder wasn’t inclined to give it any thought. 

Her shoulders were sore from tension, her neck was a corded bunch of muscles. She felt like a trap ready to snap at the slightest touch. There was no relief. 

“Ryder!” 

She looked up. All eyes were on her. Her eyes flicked from face to face, seeing everything ranging from annoyance, concern to outright dismissal. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. “What did you say?”

Harper sneered, shooting her a look of utter contempt. That brought her heckles right up. Ryder straightened in her seat and schooled her face into one of cold professionalism. It didn’t do to put her inner turmoil out on display. She was the Pathfinder and she would fucking act like one. 

Harper sighed exasperatedly. “Scott was just telling us the probes have yielded results. There is nothing-”

Scott cleared his throat, and he looked at Harper. “I think I can speak for myself,” he said, his tone cutting. 

Ryder watched as Harper shifted uncomfortably in her seat, taken aback by his tone. She shook her head. _Harper, Harper, Harper, do you even know my brother? You’re just another notch on the belt. Likely done to piss me off than anything else. Nobody is good enough for Scott, not you most especially._

She turned her attention back to her brother. Scott took over the reporting. At the end, Ryder nodded. “So let’s move onto the next system.”

“Yes, I agree. But I would like to request some additional probes. It would help make things go faster, especially if Anwar insists on putting them down on the wrong spots.”

There was a squeak at a chair scraped across the floor. It was Jarth. “Something you want to add?” Scott asked, bland and matter of fact. 

The salarian drew himself up. His black eyes levelled at Scott. Jarth loomed over him, but her brother just flashed her pilot a smile nonchalantly. Anwar tugged at Jarth’s sleeve and made angry noises. Ryder heard something that sounded suspiciously like “Leave it, this is just a Ryder thing. They don’t know how to speak kindly.”

Jarth took a deep breath before facing her. “Orders, Pathfinder?”

She turned to her brother, a question in her look. “Inalaara,” he said after consulting his omni-tool. 

“That,” Ryder said. “I’ll speak to De Tershaav for more probes.”

“Yes, Pathfinder,” Jarth left without another word. 

Ryder rubbed her temples, a headache had bloomed. She didn’t need this shit storm brewing between her brother, Anwar and Jarth. But she trusted Scott more than anyone else on the Tempest, maybe even more than Drack. 

_I have work to do._

She growled inwardly as she tapped and updated her notes before turning her attention to the report Nyx and Ama Darav were giving her. 

* * *

Her talk with De Tershaav went quickly. Ryder admired the no nonsense approach the angara resistance leader had with everything. It was efficient and she appreciated it. Neither enjoyed small talk. 

“We will be dropping by Voeld to pick up the probes,” she said. 

De Tershaav’s fuzzy holo nodded. “Keep me appraised of your progress,” 

“Will do, Ryder out.”

She sighed. The entire day was filled up in meetings and report writing. She shook her head. That wasn’t quite right. She lost half of it in a black hole. Pressing the heel of her hand into her eyes, the pressure made her see dancing shadows that undulated and writhed. She pulled her hands away and blinked rapidly. 

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she was a biotic and despite not out on missions, she still needed more calories than regular people. As much as she wanted sleep, she knew she had to eat. With great reluctance, she made her way to the galley. 

“Hopefully there won’t be a repeat of yesterday,” she dragged herself off the chair. “Fuck, there better not be a repeat of yesterday.”

As she approached the galley, she could hear laughter. She stopped outside and sighed. Her stomach growled again. Heavy footsteps behind made her spun around. It was Drack. “Kid, what are you doing just standing there?” 

She had no explanation other than her general distaste to deal with people outside of work. “No, I was just about to get some food,” she replied in lieu of speaking her mind. 

Drack humphed. He was completely unconvinced. “Whatever, kid,” he brushed passed her to trigger the holo-lock. “Tell me what the fuck is going on in your head, or don’t.”

Ryder followed. The chatter died the moment she stepped in. Well, that in itself was no big deal, she was used to that and it didn’t bothered her. _Quick entry, fast exit. All I need are my ration bars. Maybe some of Drack’s ryncol._

Scott was there, seated among the others. “Hey Sara, join us,” he said. 

She frowned and shook her head, turning back to grab a handful of ration bars and stuffing them into her pocket. 

“Aww, come on. I hardly have a chance to talk to you. It’s always work and nothing else. Can’t I have a meal with my big sister?” he said. 

Ryder pinched the bridge of her nose but allowed Scott to drag her to the table. The others scooted and made a space for her. And that was how she found herself sitting shoulder to shoulder next to Harper. 

_Oh fucking wonderful. And this won’t be a problem at all, I’m sure._

B’Sayle’s eyes were sparkling as she eyed Scott. “So what can you tell us about our great leader?” she asked cheekily. 

Ryder shot Scott a look, but he was studiously ignoring her. “You want a story?”

“Uh huh,” B’Sayle nodded eagerly. 

“No,” Ryder interjected. She fucking knew it. Sitting and having a meal with the others was a bad idea. And reality proven her right. 

“Please!” B’Sayle begged. 

“Yeah! Ryder hardly talks about herself,” Kosta said. 

She shook her head. Of course Kosta had to say something. It wouldn’t do if he had kept his mouth shut. Even Ama Darav, Brodie, Anwar and Jarth perked up. She could even feel Harper shifting to look at Scott. 

“So…” he drawled, dragging the word out, his eyes on her. He grinned, his teeth all white and pearly. “A story of my dear big sister huh?”

Ryder inhaled. There was no stopping this. It was impressive how Scott could twirl them all around his finger. Even Anwar and Jarth who were so clearly pissed with him earlier, were completely at ease with him now.

Somehow Scott moved easily among people, maybe it was his ability to read people, to court them. The long line of girls he had was proof enough if nothing else. He was just good with people. 

Ryder knew herself. She had been called many things, aloof, standoffish if the person felt kindly and a bitch if not. That was among the kindest way she had been described since she joined the Alliance. Ryder would be the first to admit, she was all that and more. And she was completely fine with that. She didn’t need this socialising, she didn’t thrive on it. If she wanted to talk, she had Scott or Drack and now maybe even Nyx. If she wanted a release, finding a willing man for a quick fuck wasn’t hard either. 

“Tell us, I’m curious to hear the story too,” Ama Darav urged. 

There was only one thing she could do. Ryder stood and extracted herself from the bench. The others were already protesting. “Don’t be such a spoil sport,” B’Sayle said. 

“We’re just curious,” Kosta quipped. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t ask for the story if Ryder is uncomfortable,” Nyx offered. 

Drack chuckled from the side where he had been leaning against the wall. “Kid, I don’t know how you’re going to get out of this.”

“I’m done here,” Ryder said, turning to Drack. “Drinks at my place?”

The old krogan shrugged. “Sure.”

“Hey! No! Ryder is escaping,” B’Sayle said. “This was my chance for juicy Pathfindery secrets!”

The myriad of voices all clamouring, demanding are like little birds pecking away at her patience. “Enough,” she said, her tone curt. “My story is mine. It is not for anyone’s entertainment.”

The silence that followed on the heels of her words seemed to suck the air out of the room. All of them were suddenly interested in their food. Harper snorted. A single sound of derision. 

_People, fucking people._

Drack rummaged through the cabinets and found an opened bottle of ryncol. “Come on, kid.” 

Ryder followed but not before she heard Scott say, “And now that the scary Ryder is gone, I can tell you…”

_Yeah, I’m the scary Ryder._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	10. Infection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shit,” she exhaled, finally succeeding in turning the music off.
> 
> Her shirt was completely soaked in perspiration. As Ryder tried to push her damp hair from her face, she realised _the wound_ had tore opened again. And her sheets were speckled with red. 
> 
> _It’s a fucking curse._
> 
> Ryder blinked as blue flames flickered on and off her hands. Ignoring her bleeding hand, she took a deep breath and tried to rein her biotics in. Her chest expanded and her lungs filled but the pressure just built at her amp, twisting and stabbing. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. 
> 
> The nightmare rattled her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover and chapter art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori](https://www.seokanori.com). Check out her [Tumblr](https://seokanori.tumblr.com/) and [website](https://www.seokanori.com)

Swirling shadows danced around her. Anger fuelled her motion. Fists swinging, seeking a target. Jaw clenched, barely holding back a roar of fury. 

She ran, a caged animal unleashed. 

Taunting laughter swirled around her. Rage at being tormented, at being stabbed over and over. Ahead, a hint of dreadlocks, a glint of steel. 

She chased, legs pounding, thighs working. 

Biotics made her faster, hit harder. Even unarmed, she wasn’t truly toothless. Energy ran over her body and engulfed her. She blazed with the intensity of an azure sun. Blue beating back black, revealing her quarry. 

She charged. The world narrowed to a pinpoint as it streaked passed. She was the one constant as the world rearranged itself with her in the centre. 

Bodies colliding. They slammed into the ground. She ignored the air that was squeezed out of her lungs as she scrambled for a grip. The bitch never stopped laughing, mocking and deriding. 

“That’s all you got, Pathfinder?”

“No!” she growled, low and guttural. 

Hand finding hair, she twisted her fingers around the bitch’s dreadlocks. She pressed one knee against the small of the bitch’s back and tugged upwards. The scream that erupted was satisfying. 

“How’s that, bitch?” she hissed. It sent a trill of triumph down her spine. She grinned. 

The bitch panted but said, “That’s nothing. Remember how Kaetus pounded between your legs? Remember how _that_ felt? This is child’s play.”

A spike of pain started between her legs and lanced up her core. She bit back a groan and pushed it aside, it was just another note in her symphony of pain. 

_I am beyond feeling this. I am more than this._

Her hand tightened and she found a blade in her right hand. The hand that was stabbed again and again by a nail. Bones shattered, flesh torn and skin broken. How the blood flowed. But she had her hands on her tormenter, she would not be denied her sweet revenge. 

The blade felt heavy in her hand despite its size. The ridges on the grip felt reassuring. With a feral grin, she promised, “I was just getting started!”

She didn’t question the provenance of the weapon. It didn’t matter how she got it or that it wasn’t there before. It was here, now. And she would fucking use it. She made sure her stasis field over the bitch was active. She was taking no chances here. The bitch would regret her words, one way or another. Teeth bared, she deployed the blade and flipped the bitch around to face her.

She froze. 

“What’s wrong, Pathfinder?” the bitch smirked.

The voice didn’t match the face or the hair. Nothing did. It was a turian’s face, completed with mandibles, plates and unnaturally bright yellow eyes. 

“Cat got your tongue?” the bitch’s voice took on a dual-flanged quality. “Don’t like what you see?”

Her eyes caught the glint of a nail in the bitch’s decidedly human hands. Her right hand throbbed in response. Blood streamed from the open wound. 

“Blood will be paid in blood,” she spat, tightening her grip on the blade. 

Sharp end pointed down, she stabbed. Again and again, her hand rose and fell. The bitch’s turian mouth was wide open and gaping. And the most awful howling laughter erupted. The air vibrated, it was loud and all encompassing. “It tickles. Pathfinder. This is barely a scratch.”

The blade cut, it sliced, it rent flesh from bone. But the bitch never stopped laughing.

She didn’t know what was going on any longer. There was only her need for this to be over, to shut the bitch up. 

“Die! Fucking die!”

She shrieked her impotence, her fury, her pain. Nothing else mattered. It was her, the bitch and the blade. And blood, so much of it. 

“Die!”

* * *

A crash. A gasp. 

Ryder’s eyes snapped opened. Glass shards from the shared bottle of ryncol littered her sheets. Everything that was sitting on her bedside table had slammed into the curved edges of the Tempest’s hull. The smooth metal dented. 

A steady beat pounded as a gentle voice sang. She squeezed her eyes shut, her pulse throbbed against her temple.

_Nobody knows why  
Nobody knows how and_

Her music player was still playing. She had fallen asleep with it still on. The singer wasn’t singing, she was whispering. Just like the ones from her nightmare. Brushes of hush voices that taunted, that mocked, that lured and bit. 

_This feeling begins just like a spark  
Tossing and turning inside of your heart_

Sheets bunched up under her hands as she tried to will the images away. Shadows danced even behind her eyelids. An echo of laughter tickled the edge of her hearing. She flinched. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide and wild as she scanned her room. Her hands reaching for her pistol. She forced her hands still, trembling with the effort.

_Exploding in the dark_

Instead, she turned to her omni-tool. Finger stabbing against the orange interface blindly and she hit the wrong button. The music changed to a classical piece that started with a loud horn blare. Ryder recoiled, blinking rapidly as the flashbacks faded. 

“Shit,” she exhaled, finally succeeding in turning the music off.

Her shirt was completely soaked in perspiration. As Ryder tried to push her damp hair from her face, she realised _the wound_ had tore opened again. And her sheets were speckled with red. 

_It’s a fucking curse._

Ryder blinked as blue flames flickered on and off her hands. Ignoring her bleeding hand, she took a deep breath and tried to rein her biotics in. Her chest expanded and her lungs filled but the pressure just built at her amp, twisting and stabbing. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. 

The nightmare rattled her. 

She was practically born into the Alliance despite her petty crime days. Being sentenced to mandatory military service might have been the only thing that saved her from a life of bad decisions compounding to worse ones. Her father being forced to take charge for her initial mandatory military service meant she had to be flawless in everything she did. He would settle for nothing less.

Ryder had seen combat as soon she was legally able to. Babysitting scientists and Prothean archaeologists didn’t mean it was all boring on the western front. The battlefield was her second home and she had seen her fair share of shit. The persistent nightmares were a mystery to her. It was only fuel for frustration. 

“Why the fuck I can’t get rid of this nightmare?”

The harder she tried to rein in her biotics, the worse her focus, the angrier she got. She couldn’t do it. Blue flames sparked brighter and more violently. Smaller pieces of glass shards were already caught in a biotic field around her. She had to discharge it.

With a grunt, the shards blasted outwards like shrapnel. 

The display which kept track of her wardrobe fizzled and died as shards embedded itself in the screen. She exhaled sharply, fingers pressed against her temples, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just a fucking nightmare,” she whispered. 

Ryder glared at the damaged screen, the electronics were sparking as the image flickered on and off. She never understood the purpose of the screen. She didn’t need a screen to tell her what was inside her wardrobe, she could simply open it. 

“Ryder,” SAM’s voice echoed in her head. 

She grunted, attempting to scrub the last remnant of her nightmare from her mind through sheer will power. 

“Commander Do Xeel requests your presence.”

Another grunt. The connection crackled and dropped. Ryder slapped her hands over her cheeks. “Time to get to work.”

* * *

“I’m sorry but the shipment of probes has been delayed,” the angara said. 

Ryder frowned. “Again? I didn’t drive the Nomad all the way from Taerve Uni to hear this. I’ve been waiting for two whole days. De Tershaav assured me that they are already here,” she pointed out. “What the hell is going on?”

The soldier shuffled uncomfortably. “I can only tell you what I know.”

“Do Xeel wanted to talk to me. Where is she?”

Another soldier walked over. “Pathfinder Ryder,” he greeted. “I’m Anrad Shaf. I’m sorry about the confusion. The commander will see you now.”

She nodded. Ama Darav and Drack followed closely behind. 

* * *

Ryder had spent the past two days training and sparring, trying to get back into the swing of things. Her right arm still ached. She looked at the long silver scar she had acquired from the surgery. It was remarkable that they managed to fix her arm despite how bad the break was. 

“Harry did good work,” T’Perro remarked.

Ryder grunted. Her mind straying to _dear Kim._ “So everything’s good?” she asked instead. 

The doctor nodded. “Your arm has made a full recovery. You may experience aches from time to time but that’s totally normal,” she said as she scanned Ryder’s hand. “But I don’t like how your puncture wound still has not completely healed. It is just odd.”

Ryder withdrew her hand. “I’ll slap some medi-gel on it. It’s fine.”

T’Perro frowned. “Keeping you and the others in tip top condition is my job.” she remained. 

“Isn’t my arm healed? This wound wouldn’t stop me from doing my job.”

The doctor opened her mouth and clamped it shut again. Whatever T’Perro wanted to say, she was glad T’Perro had decided to keep to herself. She had enough of the med-bay. 

That led Ryder to sparring with Drack. He was the only one she would spar with though Kosta had asked repeatedly for a one on one with her. She had refused him purely out of the need to keep him alive. It would be hard to explain to Tann why she had accidentally killed Kosta. Telling Tann he talked too much probably wouldn’t cut it. 

Ryder felt the air rushed out of her lungs as she slammed against the floor again. She panted. fighting to gain her legs. But Drack rushed her, knocking her back down before she could properly stand. 

“Kid, I can only spar with you so many times,” he said. “It is boring if I always win.”

She glowered, but he wasn’t wrong. It was next to impossible to best a krogan as experienced as Drack. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered another krogan she had killed with great effort. 

“You ok, kid?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she countered. 

Drack shook his head and offered her a hand, pulling her up. As she withdrew her hand, his grip tightened. Her brow knitted. “Lie to me if you want but don’t lie to yourself.”

“Don’t stick your hide where it don’t belong.”

The krogan shrugged and lumbered off. 

Ryder was so bored she had resorted to reading HNS news articles on her omni-tool. This time they went into the sordid details of the serial killings. The victims were completely eviscerated, an ear sliced off as a trophy for each. Photos of each victim stared at her, each had paragraphs of testimonials from friends and co-workers recounting how nice and wonderful the victims were. 

Ryder snorted. _Such sensationalistic news. Sure, report about the Cutter. Stick your head in the sand about the kett threat, the rising Roekaar tensions and the fact we still do not have any golden worlds beyond Meridian._

* * *

As far as Ryder was concerned those probes Scott wanted might as well be lost for all the information she received. Her usual tactic of glaring and making angry noises had yielded nothing as the Resistance stonewalled her. She was tired of these games. She was due some fucking answers.

Shaf led them to a smaller room. Inside Anjik Do Xeel, the commander of the angara Resistance base on Voeld, was waiting. Ryder glanced at Shaf and Do Xeel, her eyes narrowed. “What the fuck is going on?”

Both of them kept silent. She glanced at Ama Darav. He shrugged eloquently. Drack was expressing his disapproval with the low rumbling from his chest. 

“I’m just here to-“

Do Xeel held a hand up as she cocked her head as if listening to a transmission. The swirling orb on her wrist flared and flickered. The entire situation was making her antsy. This was supposed to be simple. The fact Ama Darav was also kept in the dark just meant trouble. 

“Ryder, your shipment had been indefinitely delayed,” Do Xeel said eventually with a heavy sigh after she was done with the call. 

She grimaced, rubbing her forehead. _Nothing seems to be able to go right._ “Why? What the fuck is going on?”

Do Xeel nodded. “We think the Roekaar has it.”

“We think?” she echoed. It wasn’t like Do Xeel to be anything but precise and accurate. Ryder had worked with the Commander previously and she had nothing but high praise for the Commander.

Do Xeel sighed. “Ancestors, I don’t know how to say this but we’re not 100% sure. Your probes were supposed to be delivered from Techiix to us, but it’s like the entire daar has gone crazy.”

“Then where does the Roekaar come into this?”

“It might be a biological weapon.”

Ama Darav tensed up behind her. Another heavy sigh, she asked, “How crazy?” 

“Raving, screaming and just outright violent.”

“It has affected every single soldier I sent in there. Most of them don’t last longer than 10 minutes before the symptoms overwhelm them. I am not able to get any kind of intel on what’s going on.”

“This has affected your people even when they are wearing heavy armour with complete environmental filters engaged?”

Do Xeel nodded, her tired eyes meeting Ryder’s. “I can’t compel you to do this. You can easily get more probes by returning to Meridian or the Nexus. But I really could use your help.”

Ryder sighed. “Let me get my team.”

* * *

Snow crunched under her combat boots as she approached the temporary command post the Resistance had set up. Her breath puffed as it vented from her suit. She glanced at the HUD in her helmet. The readout for the temperature was 40 below freezing. _You’d think the weather would actually be warmer after I’ve activated the Vault._

Shaf’s black and turquoise Resistance armour was stark against the snow. He glanced back to make sure they were following. They stepped past a pair of lookouts standing next to some sun lamps. Those were the only tiny haven of warmth around here. A pair of heavy-duty doors clanked shut as they stepped through. Beams of light swept over them as pressurised air blasted against them. The noise sent a stab of pain through her temples. _Stupid headache._ She rolled her neck to ease the strain. It didn’t help a single bit.

Harper shifted her weight behind her. Against her better judgement, Ryder had brought her second along. She prayed she wouldn’t come to regret it later. Ama Darav had refused to remain in safety while his people were suffering so he came along. Drack, B’Sayle and Kosta filled out the ground team. Nyx was left to take command of the Tempest with Jarth and Brodie holding down fort. 

The problem felt biological so she brought T’Perro, Anwar and Scott along to work on the problem. They would be able to help hypothesise and develop a vaccine or antidote. _Or something. This is completely beyond me. Why can’t it be a simple kett or Roekaar problem?_

Once the decontamination process was over the doors on the opposite end hissed open. Shaf beckoned and they followed. Inside was controlled chaos. Soldiers milled about having whispered conversations. Scientists bustling about, many in heated discussions. For once, even B’Sayle and Kosta were silent. Maybe the gravity of the situation was sinking into them. Whatever the reason, Ryder was happy for the peace, however short lived it might be. 

T’Perro waved at another asari she spotted. “T'loza!”

“T’Perro, what are you doing here?” the asari dressed in the typical Initiative science team uniform asked, eyeing the rest of them. 

“We were here to pick up some supplies, then we learnt of the situation. So we had to come lend a hand. Where is Acalinus? I’d expect her to be here.”

T'loza pursed her lips as a frown ceased her brow. “She didn’t turn up for work today. She was supposed to lead the team. This is really unlike her. I’m worried.”

“We’ve got a daar to save. We can worry about Acalinus later,” T’Perro glanced at Ryder. 

She nodded. “Anwar, Scott we’re counting on you.”

They followed T’Perro as her friend led them away. 

Ryder turned to Sarf who led her to Do Xeel’s battle room. The Commander had her arms braced against the table. A blueprint of Techiix hovered before her as the other platoon leaders of the Resistance were discussing amongst themselves. 

She looked up and nodded grimly. “You’re here.”

Ryder glanced at the other angaras who had arranged themselves loosely around their commander. All of them looked tired and drained. She squared her shoulders, “How long has this been going on?”

“Three days,” Do Xeel admitted. 

She sighed, biting back the urge to ask why weren’t the Pathfinder team involved from the start. The time for that was later, after the situation was under control. 

“What can you tell me?” she asked, her crew fanned out behind her. All of them alert. 

Do Xeel shook her head. “We have very little information on what happened prior to the event,” she tapped on her omni-tool. 

A beep informed Ryder a file had been sent over. It was footage from a security camera covering Techiix’s courtyard. Snow was blowing in but the angaras were working as they usually do. The timecode counter ticked by, 10 seconds, 20 seconds. Nothing was amiss. She glanced at Do Xeel. 

“Watch on, it’s coming.”

It was imperceptible at first. One of the angaras started groaning as he blinked rapidly. His peers crowding around him. Some urging the angara to sit, others rushing off. Maybe to get help or a doctor she assumed. The groaning went on, the angara got more agitated. It didn’t take long before one of those who was tending to the first started groaning and blinking. 

“The onset of symptoms is fast,” she remarked. “Unless they were all exposed at the same time.”

“They were all working in the open. Nothing happened to them in the prior couple of hours before this point.”

“What about after?” Ryder pressed. 

Do Xeel sighed, scrubbing her face. “The infected were not only hostile to those who were not, but they had also destroyed the communication and security suite. We were not able to see what is going on inside two hours after the initial onset of infection.”

“So this is definitely biological?”

It was then an angara dressed in lab attire and T'loza entered the battle room. “From what evidence we can glean from the footage, yes. It looks biological,” the new angara said. “Aarvfos Sader, lead scientist here.”

Ryder nodded. “So angaras are susceptible to the virus for the lack of a better word, what about the other species? Turian? Asari? Humans?”

“We have initially sent two teams of Resistance fighters in on separate days hoping to get a better picture of what is going on inside. Both teams never reported back. As far as we know they are all still inside. But this has grown before our ability to contain. While none of the infected have tried to exit Techiix, but we cannot take the chance with a virus this virulent.”

It was clear to Ryder what needed to be done - burn and raze Techiix to the ground and pray the virus wouldn’t survive the scouring flames. But she had no jurisdiction here, she knew enough to keep unpopular thoughts to herself. “So the question is what do you need?”

Sader nodded, giving the floor to T’loza. “We need samples. We need to know what this is in order to begin trying to cure it. Anything else is just throwing theories against the wall and seeing what sticks.”

“But we don’t know if this is an angara only disease?” Harper asked. 

T’loza shook her head. “We can’t even begin to test if we don’t have any samples.”

Do Xeel turned to Ryder. “Techiix is just a regular daar, filled with families and children. There is nothing remarkable about it other than it houses our hearts. We can’t just cut it off like a diseased limb. I know this is dangerous, it is too much to ask you to do this. But none of us can.”

Ryder took a deep breath, she exhaled long and slow. “I’ll need to speak to my crew.”

The commander nodded, her eyes silently begging. Shaf ushered them into a private room. Once the door slid shut behind them, Ryder turned to face her crew. Despite all the problems and little irritations that came from living in an enclosed space for weeks on end and dealing with high stress situations on a daily basis, she actually cared if they lived or died. 

_We’ve gotten rid of the Archon without causalities and I don’t intend to start now._

“Ama Darav,” she said. 

The angara straightened at his name. “You are sitting this one out.”

Honest to a fault, surprise flickered across his face as if he had not expected her to help. Ryder pushed the swell of disappointment aside. The rest of them looked at her. It ranged from apprehension, tension to fear. Her jaw clenched. “I am only looking for volunteers only.”

Without hesitation, Harper took a step forward. “I’m coming.”

Ryder raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. “Anyone-“

“Me too,” Drack rumbled, looking annoyed Harper had beaten him to the punch. 

T’Perro sighed and shook her head. “No, Drack shouldn’t go. This is an unknown virus. You’re on your last heart. You shouldn’t expose yourself to this. You’re not a robot we can swap parts for and call you as good as new.”

“The kid is going into certain danger,” Drack growled, “she needs me at her back.”

“I am a grown woman who can speak for herself,” Ryder reminded. 

He narrowed his yellow eyes. “I can’t risk you,” she said, her left hand rubbing her sore right one. Their eyes met and her jaw clenched. She swallowed, looking away for a moment before saying, “I can take care of myself.”

“Listen to Ryder,” Anwar said. “Please.” 

“Fine,” he snorted, folding his arms across his chest.

“All right, if it will be Harper and myself, we have some planning to do,” she said as she turned to inform Do Xeel. 

“No, I’ll come too.”

Kosta stepped forward. “Just like old times yeah?” he said with a big fat grin on his face. 

_Oh fuck. Just the people I need at my back._

She nodded in resignation. “Just like old times.”

**Lyrics taken from[Here With Me by Susie Suh x Robot Koch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzR8BCmV9Ew)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	11. Techiix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow crunched underfoot as Ryder stepped onto the platform. She couldn’t help but stopped and glanced at the ice. It was dark, ominous and silent. Fingers that carried the deep of the harshest winter ran down her spine, she shuddered. She resisted the urge to check if her armour’s climate control was working properly. 
> 
> Her boots thumped as she stepped off onto the ice. There was no mournful song, no hint of the Yevara underneath. She remembered observing them swimming. Bio-luminous lights moved like ghosts in the depths. The cold Voeld sunlight beat down, outlining the majestic beasts. They dwarfed everything else she had seen then. She was humbled by their presence, they were nowhere to be seen today. 
> 
> _Hidden. Maybe they are just ashamed of what I’m here to do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover and chapter art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori](https://www.seokanori.com). Check out her [Tumblr](https://seokanori.tumblr.com/) and [website](https://www.seokanori.com)

Snow crunched underfoot as Ryder stepped onto the platform. She couldn’t help but stopped and glanced at the ice. It was dark, ominous and silent. Fingers that carried the deep of the harshest winter ran down her spine, she shuddered. She resisted the urge to check if her armour’s climate control was working properly. 

Her boots thumped as she stepped off onto the ice. There was no mournful song, no hint of the Yevara underneath. She remembered observing them swimming. Bio-luminous lights moved like ghosts in the depths. The cold Voeld sunlight beat down, outlining the majestic beasts. They dwarfed everything else she had seen then. She was humbled by their presence, they were nowhere to be seen today. 

_Hidden. Maybe they are just ashamed of what I’m here to do._

Ryder walked on. She traversed the ice quickly and got back onto solid ground. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, empty and void of life. It was quiet, beyond the howling of Voeld winds, she heard nothing else. 

She took a deep breath, the air hissed through her helmet’s filters, the cold stung her lungs. It invigorated her. A trip to pick up some probes had turned into a mission where she was leading a team of humans to murder a bunch of angaras who had the bad luck of being infected by who knew what. _How’s that for a plot twist?_

Every step took her closer, there was no time for second thoughts. Her mission was clear. _Clear the fucking daar with as little casualties as possible, and figure out what the fuck is going on._

Ryder’s grip in her rifle tightened. It was strange to see the bustling daar dark. Someone had cut the main power generators and it wasn’t Do Xeel or her team, at least not while they were uninfected. Unease wormed its way into her mind. Her instincts told her to run, to burn and cut it loose, but it wasn’t her call. 

As she passed through the threshold and stepped into Techiix proper, the shadows within seemed to twitch and shift. Ryder stiffened but kept walking, betraying none of her disquiet. It was dead, still like a tomb but not quite, Techiix was just bidding its time. It was a predator lying in wait, ready to pounce on its next victim. 

And here they were, volunteers walking into the maw of the lion. 

Ryder was twitchy, she didn’t have her beloved Black Widow in her hands. Urban fighting wasn’t the place to be using it. She held the unfamiliar weight of her assault rifle instead. She was proficient in it, but it wasn’t what she preferred. 

The other reason she was keyed up were the two pairs of boots that flanked her. They were twin presences that weighed against her mind, neither were people she wanted watching her back. Her jaw tightened and relaxed as she breathed through her nose. She bit back the sigh that lay on her tongue. 

“It’s eerie,” Kosta said, his voice hushed. 

“Yeah,” Harper replied, the light mounted on her shotgun swung left and right in the gloom. 

Ryder grunted. 

“Where are they?” Kosta breathed. 

That was the million dollar question. By Do Xeel’s numbers, there were at least a hundred inhabitants in Techiix and then there were the two squads that they had sent in. _Where the hell are they?_

Her hand jerked twice in opposite directions. Kosta and Harper fanned out, each taking one side while she took the middle. 

White particles swirled in the air ahead of them in the courtyard. It was empty. Holo-locks on the doors all glowed a forbidding red. Her eyes narrowed. _The power to the doors must be on another system._

Where were the moaning, crazy angaras that she saw on the security footage? It started here, but there was nobody around. Just snow flakes dancing about as a strong gust whipped through the daar, buffeting the three humans.

“I don’t like this,” Harper said. 

“Me too,” Kosta replied. 

Ryder snorted, unsurprised that they had managed to get on her nerve already. Kosta made towards the first door. 

“Pathfinder, I detect life signs from inside that room.”

_Fuck._

“Wait,” she ordered, reaching out to grab at Kosta.

But his finger was already on his omni-tool, the master code that Do Xeel had provided deployed. And out poured the missing angara team. 

_I knew there was a reason the doors were locked._

“Oh fuck!” Kosta backpedalled as quickly as he could, tripping and tumbling down the short flight of stairs back onto the snowy dirt. 

Ryder didn’t hesitate. She fired. 

“No, wait!” Harper shouted, pushing her rifle’s barrel up into the air, “We should talk to them.” 

The bullets raked the rocky ceiling of the cave Techiix was built into. Ryder growled, shoving Harper aside. “Don’t fucking ever do that again.”

She seethed. It wasn’t just dangerous, it was stupid. She rushed in, rifle bucking in her hands, trying to disable some of them before they reached Kosta. There was no question, the angaras weren’t themselves. Their eyes glazed over and bloodshot red. They moved as any trained soldier would, movements quick and decisive. But all of them were missing their weapons and helmets. They were only armed with the traditional angara blade, the firaan. 

It was Kosta’s luck they had no rifles. The group of five fell on him like rabid zombies. Ryder aimed to injure rather than to kill. Given Harper’s initial response, she had counted Harper out. As long as Harper didn’t hinder, it would be a win. 

In the mess of limbs, Ryder had no way to properly separate Kosta from the others. As much as he grated on her nerves she had no wish to actually shoot him. Taking careful aim, she fired, clipped one on the shoulder. The angara didn’t do anything beyond get spun by the impact. No cry of pain, no curse of anger. He just absorbed the bullet like it didn’t hurt. But it had to, she could see the trickle of blood from the open wound. 

_Shit, they must not feel pain._

“Help!” Kosta yelled, his fists and elbows flailed against the press of bodies. 

The one she wounded was seperated from the main pack, safe to fire at it. She wasted no time, putting a bullet into both his thighs. He fell heavily, bleeding blue all over the snow, but it didn’t seemed to matter. He struggled to his feet again.

“Fuck,” she cursed. Grimacing, she put one more bullet between his eyes. 

Long seconds ticked by as she watched, half sure he was about to stand up again. _Ok, ok, bullet to head. Dead is dead._

Ryder glanced back at Harper. She had her shotgun in her hands, but she wasn’t shooting. She had been shouting at the angaras for the past couple of minutes. 

“Harper!” Ryder yelled as she headed back into the fray. 

Her second in command stared back at her, mouth agape. “We can't just gun them down! I know some of these angaras!”

“They are beyond our help now! It's Kosta or them, choose one!”

Harper’s shotgun rose, but its barrel wavered. 

“Don’t just fucking stand there! Use your biotics if you don’t want to shoot!”

Getting yelled at seemed to do the trick, Harper’s gaze sharpened. Her mouth twisted as if ready to hurl insults in Ryder’s direction. Instead it formed a grimace as she holstered her shotgun in favour for a pistol. Ryder did the same. It was too tight to safely use anything else. 

The remaining four somehow pried Kosta’s helmet from his head and were pressing his face into the snow. His screams were muffled as he fought to get air. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Ryder called upon her biotics and launched herself into the group like a cannonball. The impact knocked Kosta free from the others. He was crawling away, gasping for air.

As she fought herself free from the tangle of limbs, she smashed the butt of her pistol into the nearest face. The first blow only seemed to help solidify the angara’s attention on her. The second merely inconvenienced him. _Why the hell are their skulls so damn tough? Come on, get knocked out, please!_

As she brought her pistol down a third time, the angara launched himself at her. Air rushed from her lungs as she tried to bring her weapon to bear. Gunfire rang out in the background, Harper’s shouts and Kosta’s coughing were the only other sounds. The angaras remained deathly silent. 

Disabling them was fast turning impossible. It was kill or be killed. Hands pressed against her chest, crushing her lungs, ripping the body cam on her armour away. Her back pressed against the uneven ground. She twisted, pushing the barrel against his leg and fired. The angara jerked once, but his hands just kept coming. 

Ryder gave up on her pistol, letting it fall. Her omni blade flashed to life just in the nick of time, catching the steel of the firaan against it. Teeth gnashing, she grunted. Her arms protested, her muscles screamed, but there was no fighting the superior weight of an adult male angara. The buzz of her omni-blade sank dangerously close to her face as the gleam of the firaan filled her eyes. With a roar, she Pushed. Her arm ached as the biotic powered movement forced her against the angara. As soon as his weight wasn’t pinning her against the ground, Ryder twisted and danced away. It gave her some space to work with. Sparing a split second to glance at Harper and Kosta, she found Harper struggling against an infected angara soldier of her own, another dying at her feet. Kosta was still gasping, but he had his pistol in his hand. 

Her only warning was the singing as the sharp edge of the firaan sliced through air. It struck her chest plate and bit passed the mesh that held the armour together. She hissed as she stepped inside the angara’s range. Her omni-blade flashed as she powered her hand into his guts. The blade slipped between the armour plates and into flesh. He groaned and sagged, his weight sliding off her omni-blade as he slumped to the ground. 

Ryder hissed, she could already feel blood seeping through the slice across her chest. Her medical suite in her armour had taken over and medi-gel was coursing through her veins, delivering sweet cool numbness over her wound. 

“Ryder!” It was a gasp laced with panic and fear. 

She spun to find Harper on her back, her helmet ripped off, a pair of angara hands wrapped around her throat. Blue flared and fizzled as she struggled to bring her biotics to bear. A choked throat was impossible for anyone to concentrate enough to summon biotics. 

Ryder had half a mind of being _a moment too slow_ , but as quickly as the thought came to her, she dismissed it. 

_No accidental deaths, Harper. It will look bad on me._

She was many things but never a back stabber. It wasn’t her style. A blade in the chest was always better than a blade in the back any day in her book. Being able to smirk as she twisted the blade was the highlight.

Omni-blade first she slashed at Harper’s assailant. The angara barely paid any attention to her. But Ryder’s biotic fuelled punches jarred his grip over Harper’s throat. Her second scrambled away on knees and hands, coughing and gasping. A pair of bloodshot eyes flicked and honed in on her. 

_Oh fuck._

She scrambled towards her earlier discarded pistol, only to have it slapped out of her hands. A massive hand caught her by her arm and it swung her against the wall. Ryder Pushed in the opposite direction, cushioning the impact a little. Her vision dimmed at the edges as she fell heavily. A boot across her face quickly followed. Her visor shattered. She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled to avoid the next blow. Springing to her feet, lifting her arms up in time to block a firaan aimed at her neck. The blade bit passed her plates into flesh, scoring her wrist and bicep. 

Ryder ignored it, instead she activated her omni-blade, impaling the angara right under his chin. With a sigh, he sagged to the floor when she pulled away. 

She staggered, waiting for the medi-gel to hit her again. “What a welcoming party,” she hissed, looking at her chest. 

The blood was dull and dried. That was a relief. She didn’t look forward to bleeding out. One hand unbuckling her helmet, she tossed the useless thing onto the floor and picked up the pistol she lost. 

Harper and Kosta were still coughing. Ryder swallowed, something was tickling the back of her throat. “Hey, you guys ok?” she asked, studying them. 

Kosta was leaning against the stair rail. Harper was still on her hands and knees, heaving more than she was coughing. 

“Hey, talk to me,” she said, holstering her pistol. On a whim she picked up the firran and tucked it against her thigh holster.

“Kosta! Harper!”

No response, just more coughing. Kosta’s breathing seemed to even out as she hurried over, worried that he needed some kind of medical intervention. 

Then he started groaning, his eyes blinking rapidly. 

Every open and shut of his eyes, Ryder watched the white of his eyes go from white to deep blood red. 

“Oh fuck. Shit.”

She backed away. “Kosta, I need your verbal acknowledgement. Are you fine?”

He groaned louder, his hands wrapped around his head as he attempted to stand. His legs didn’t hold his weight as he fell onto his knees, next to Harper. 

Ryder hurried over and caught Harper by the back of her armour and dragged her away. She was at a loss. Do Xeel’s team laid dead all around them. She killed three of them herself. 

_Kosta is one of mine. Mine._

The thought was bright and fierce, it was a fix point in her mind. “Harper, Kosta’s infected. I’ll need your help to subdue him.”

There was no doubt. Ryder might be a shit leader, but she would never leave one of her own behind if she had a choice. 

“Harper!” she shouted, letting go of her second in command’s armour. 

Harper just slumped onto the ground as if she had no spine. And she groaned. 

_Wonderful, just fucking wonderful._

“SAM,” she called out. 

“Yes Pathfinder,” the reply came instantly. 

The relief that flooded her chest was wholly unexpected but welcomed. She didn’t realise how alone she felt in this situation. For half a second, she regretted shackling SAM, but she didn’t have time to entertain second thoughts about that decision. 

“Are they infected?” She moved away from Harper quickly, her hand twitching towards her pistol before forcing it away. 

Her eyes darted between Harper and Kosta, her breath coming short and fast. 

“Yes, it seems so, Pathfinder. Their symptoms matched the infected angaras.”

“Fuck.”

Preliminary diagnosis confirmed, Ryder had no option but to act. Discarding the use of her pistol, she pulled at her core for her biotics. This had to be done the hard way. The itch at her back of her throat intensified. She coughed. Horror was the cold sweat that ran through her body. 

“SAM, am I infected?”

No answer. Before she could demand for one, Kosta launched himself at her wordlessly. They tumbled backwards, Ryder cracked the back of her head against the ground. For a split second, her vision went white. Instinctively, she gasped to replace the air that rushed out of her lungs. Before she could get a lungful, large hands clamped around her neck and squeezed. Kosta was straddling her.

_Now if it were the good doctor and not Kosta._ She growled at herself. _Focus, bitch. You’re being strangled and there will be no backup._

“Kosta,” she groaned, twisting and struggling, her hands clawing at his arms as he pressed her harder into the cold wet ground. 

Biotics flared up her arms as she pried Kosta’s hands off her neck. She did as she was trained. Leveraging on her strength on one of Kosta’s fingers, she pulled, bending the digit backwards. Further and further it went. Then it popped and cracked. He didn’t even blink. 

_Fuck._

One finger after another, all of them bending and breaking. It didn’t faze Kosta. He was silent when he normally wouldn’t shut up. It was unnerving and terrifying. Ryder went pinkie first on his left hand, reasoning that whatever damage she had to cause shouldn’t be maiming, at least nothing too bad. As she got to his thumb, she took her first lungful of air, oxygen rushing into her head, easing the pounding in her ears. Bringing her knees up, she kicked. Kosta grunted and fell backwards. With the weight off her chest, she scrambled to her feet. 

Ryder launched herself fist first at him. There could be no hesitation. If breaking four fingers did nothing, she couldn’t take any chances, she had to work quickly. A single blow to his temple only dazed him. She flipped him around to his back and hooked her arm across his throat. The other hand locking the first into place, putting him into a chokehold. The armour got in the way, but she managed to put the right amount of pressure against his neck.

Kosta groaned and gasped but she held on, her legs locked around his as he flipped them onto her back. Her heart slammed hard against her chest. Her lungs heaved and she coughed harder. _I’m doing the right thing. I’m not killing him. I’m not._

His hands dug at her face, scratching and clawing, trying to find purchase on something, anything. Ryder endured, pulling her face away from his hands as best as she could. Seconds ticked by like minutes. 

“Come on, give up. Just fucking let go, Kosta,” she hissed. “Do what’s good for you. Let me do this.”

Maybe the words that did the trick, maybe she had successfully choked him out, Kosta went limp as as a wet noodle. By experience she knew she had at best 20 seconds before he roused again. She had to work fast. Hands searching fast and rough among Kosta’s pockets and she found what she was looking for. 

“Bingo.” Two pairs of omni cuffs, she pocketed one and activated the other. 

Ryder coughed harder and harder. Her throat couldn’t quite rid itself of the irritation. 

“SAM, am I infected?” she asked urgently, cuffing Kosta’s wrists together with his omni-cuffs. 

Nothing. _SAM, this is not fucking funny._

Kosta was already starting to wake. His eyes dull and bloodshot gazed at her, blinking and uncomprehending. “Shit,” she growled as she dragged him across the ground, ignoring all the rocks and uneven surface that was surely ripping any unprotected skin apart. 

Her head started to pound. It wasn’t the pain from the blows she had taken despite blood from those lacerations still trickled down the back of her head. It was something inside, it was clawing down her throat, behind her eyes and into her head. Something that sent jolts of electricity through her brain. 

That was answer enough to her. _What the fuck do I do?_ Palm pressing against the holo-lock, she bodily threw Kosta into the empty room as the doors open. She tapped her omni-tool and locked it behind her. Before she could turn her attention to Harper, something slammed her head against the door. 

Ryder groaned, her vision doubling and blurring. She dropped and rolled away, tumbling and crashing in a less than controlled fashion. She staggered to her feet to find her vision turned red by blood running down her face. The blow had split her eyebrow. 

“Great, just fucking great. Neither of you are a fucking help. I shouldn’t have bothered taking anyone with me!” she barked, her hand wiping the blood away as best she could. 

Her jaw set, her shoulders stiff as she gathered her bearings. Harper had a firaan in her hand, probably taken from one of the fallen. For a split second, Ryder could have sworn she saw a grin on Harper’s face, a familiar one. The weapon in Harper’s hand flickered between a rusty nail and a firaan. She drew her own and exhaled, blinking hard. 

“SAM!”

“Yes Pathfinder, I’ve been trying to counteract the effects of the virus.”

“Say something the next time.”

“I will, Pathfinder. But the virus is interfering with the way I communicate with you.”

“Wonderful. Can you let the others know?” Ryder and Harper circled each other slowly. 

“I’m working on that but there is a comms dampening effect here.”

“This fucking day can’t get any worse right?” she sighed, coughing slightly. “I’m already a dead woman walking.”

Ryder gritted her teeth, she had a job to do and no fucking virus was going to stop her. She bared her teeth, levelling the blade at Harper. 

“I am going to stop you, even if I have to kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	12. Not-Harper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “SAM, status.”
> 
> “Holding steady at 40˚C, Pathfinder.”
> 
> “Ok.”
> 
> Her hand hovered over the holo-lock. A familiar scrap of metal against concrete hissed past her ear. She whirled around, biotics flared and snapping out instinctively. The blast struck a nearby crate and it was ripped apart, contents scattering everywhere. 
> 
> “Fuck. Did you hear that SAM?”
> 
> “I did not detect anything.”
> 
> Ryder blinked her eyes rapidly, twisting her neck around as she forced her breathing to slow. She could have sworn she heard a metal nail trailing along a concrete wall, a sound that never failed to bring back the fear, the rage and the impotence. Her hands were shaking. Fingers curled inwards in an attempt to still them. It didn’t work. 
> 
> “You’re sure I still have time?”
> 
> “Yes, Pathfinder. But the fever may be causing you to hallucinate.”
> 
> Ryder exhaled. 
> 
> _I’m not crazy. I’m not fucking crazy. Do not stare into the mad dog’s eyes. Do not._
> 
> She clung onto the explanation like a buoy. Her breaths came short and sharp as she fought to calm her racing heart. Eyes focused on the red holo-lock as she turned back to the job at hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori](https://www.seokanori.com). Check out her [Tumblr](https://seokanori.tumblr.com/) and [website](https://www.seokanori.com)

Ryder panted as she lay slumped against the low wall. Blood oozed from the multiple spots Harper’s firaan made it passed her defences. She groaned. It wasn’t from the wounds across her arms and chest, it wasn’t the multiple scalp lacerations she had received from blows to her head. It was from the relentless pounding that threatened to split her skull. 

“SAM,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment.

“I am working on it, Pathfinder.”

For a moment, Ryder wondered if her AI sounded exasperated as if she was asking “are we there yet?” for the umpteenth time. This was life and death. 

“Do I need to shoot all of us just to save everyone else some trouble? I don’t want to end up attacking the others who will inevitably come.”

With a grunt, she levered herself to her feet. Harper was cuffed, but she had to make sure she was still breathing. Fingers against the pulse point of Harper’s neck. It was beating strong and steady. 

_Good, I don’t want to actually kill her. If I ever do that it’ll be intentional, never accidental._

She checked the medical VI on Harper’s suit. It had dispensed medi-gel, Harper wouldn’t bleed out. She glanced about searching for a place to stash Harper. It seemed her best bet was to house her with Kosta. She hissed as she lifted Harper onto her shoulder. A single tap on her omni-tool, she unlocked the door. Kosta rushed out before the door had opened fully, but she had her biotics held at the ready. A hand jerked out and he was slammed back into the room. Ryder wasted no time and tossed Harper unceremoniously in. 

The doors couldn’t slam shut fast enough. As she pressed her back against it, exhaustion crashed over her. Her hand braced against the nearest wall was the only thing that kept her on her feet. Her body was hot, like she was running a fever, while her hands and feet tingled and felt cold, far colder than they should be when she was wearing climate controlled armour. Her body was one of contradiction. Heat concentrated around her head and neck but the pounding from before eased. 

“SAM, is this your doing?”

“Yes, Pathfinder. This isn’t an organic virus, it is nano-bots invading your body and hijacking your mental functions.”

“Shit, so this is no coincidence?” she asked as she picked up any spare ammo she could find. She was in no shape to take on anyone else. “This was a deliberate attack.”

“Yes. While I can stave off the effects of the nano-bots. It rises your core temperature, it is akin to fighting off an actual infection. This isn’t a cure and it will inevitably fail as you inhale more nano-bots than your body can handle.”

“Of course, it’s airborne.” 

So this was why the infected attacked their helmets first. It was to get them all infected. She frowned. “Why are the others at the base camp not infected?”

“I cannot ascertain the actual reason without examining the nano-bots.”

“I have a bunch swimming around in my head,” she pointed out. 

“It won’t work like that, Pathfinder.”

“Then speculate. I need something, anything,” her voice rasped raggedly. She refused to beg, but in the face of this disaster she needed some kind of hope to see this mission through.

SAM remained silent. She sighed, trudging through the snow deeper into the daar. Doors were all glowing with an ominous red holo-lock. Her heart clenched when faced with the sheer size of Techiix. The fever was already making her thoughts fuzzy. 

“The below freezing temperature outside might be the reason why the nano-bots never made it to base camp.”

“Ok, colder is better,” she exhaled, latching onto the information like a life raft. 

Ryder’s step faltered. Her head buzzed and she felt like a balloon liable to just float away. Her hand shot out and gripped the nearest solid object. The stinging cold ran even through her gloves. She blinked hard.

“How long, SAM,” she asked as continuing walking. 

“An hour or two, Pathfinder. I will let you know if your temperature increases to dangerous levels.”

“Ok, I can work with that,” she sighed. “First, I have to secure the source. Then, find a way to disable everyone here.”

_Hopefully not at the end of a fucking pistol._

* * *

Ryder slammed her hand on the holo-lock but tumbled to the ground as a hand grabbed her ankle. Twisting, she kicked at the face attached to the hand. Once, twice, blue was already coating her boots and still the hand refused to let go. Summoning her biotics, she Pushed the angara back and the door snapped shut. 

She exhaled, air puffing from her mouth as she tried to catch her breath. Her head felt like a pressure cooker, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. One hand reaching out to grab at the nearest clump of snow, she pressed it on her forehead. Ryder wondered if she had imagined the sizzleing as the snow coated her face. 

“SAM, status.”

“I’m trying to get your temperature below 40˚C.”

“Fuck, it feels hotter than that. I want to take this armour off.”

“I’d advise against it, Pathfinder.”

Ryder snorted. Turning to the next door, the next structure, the search was painstakingly slow. And beyond searching for the source she had another worry. There was another team of Resistance fighters lurking who knew where. She fancied she could take one or two angaras, but a standard Resistance squad always had five members. Even uninjured and not running a fever, she didn’t think she could take all five on her own. 

Ryder activated her scanner and glanced at the readout. There wasn’t even the slightest increase in concentration of the nano-bots one way or another to give her an indication where to focus her search on. Three days the nano-bots had free rein of the daar. It was enough to give Techiix a solid coating. The white swirls she had mistaken for snow weren’t snow. It was nano-bots self replicating in massive numbers, enough for the naked eye to actually see them. 

Door after door she opened, some rooms were occupied, some not. All of them didn’t hold the quarry she was searching for. It was rote by this point. A hand held at the ready when the door slid open. Her biotics Pushed any and all rushing angaras against the nearest solid object. The first one merely dazed them, buying her time to Lift them. Once she got them floating, they could grunt and flail for all she cared. If she wasn’t on a time crunch, it would be amusing to kick back and watch them struggle ineffectively against air. 

But her amp was hot from overuse, physically she was drained as well. Ryder unwrapped her last ration bar, having burnt through the rest to provide her body fuel. She chewed and swallowed mechanically. Her throat was dry and her mouth didn’t produce enough saliva to ease the chunks down her throat. The wrapper now empty was quickly discarded. Littering was the least of her worries. She sighed. 

“SAM, status.”

“Holding steady at 40˚C, Pathfinder.”

“Ok.”

Her hand hovered over the holo-lock. A familiar scrap of metal against concrete hissed past her ear. She whirled around, biotics flared and snapping out instinctively. The blast struck a nearby crate and it was ripped apart, contents scattering everywhere. 

“Fuck. Did you hear that SAM?”

“I did not detect anything.”

Ryder blinked her eyes rapidly, twisting her neck around as she forced her breathing to slow. She could have sworn she heard a metal nail trailing along a concrete wall, a sound that never failed to bring back the fear, the rage and the impotence. Her hands were shaking. Fingers curled inwards in an attempt to still them. It didn’t work. 

“You’re sure I still have time?”

“Yes, Pathfinder. But the fever may be causing you to hallucinate.”

Ryder exhaled. 

_I’m not crazy. I’m not fucking crazy. Do not stare into the mad dog’s eyes. Do not._

She clung onto the explanation like a buoy. Her breaths came short and sharp as she fought to calm her racing heart. Eyes focused on the red holo-lock as she turned back to the job at hand. 

* * *

Eyes blinking rapidly, she stared. Her chest tightened as her heart lurched in an odd pace. Fingers wrapped around the grip of the pistol, her muscles corded and tight. She exhaled, hard and sharp. 

“Tell me, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” she spat. 

There was no response. 

“SAM!” Her voice echoed across the daar. 

“Pathfinder, you are hallucinating,” SAM replied. “I am attempting to lower your temperature but doing so will allow the nano-bots to take over.”

Ryder glared at the dead woman that stood in front of her. Dreadlocks flopped over her head, her neck twisted at an odd angle, clearly broken, teeth sharp and yellowing as a blood red tongue played over them. That wasn’t even the disturbing part. She was all bloody and bruised, her spine mangled and bent. She met Ryder’s glare with laughter. It was pitched high and maniacal. 

“Are you ready, girl?” the spectral bitch asked, her hands twirling something short, made of metal and altogether too familiar. 

The nail, old, rusty and too fucking sharp. The bitch dragged it across her face. She grinned as she sucked on the pointed end. “Ready for your punishment, girl?”

“Shut up!” Ryder growled, drawing her pistol, flipping the safety off. 

Her hand wavered as she took aim. The bitch just snorted. 

_Of all things to hallucinate, I get this. I don’t need this. Not now. Not fucking now!_

It took all of her self control to turn her back to the ghost. Step by step, Ryder forced herself to walk away. The bitch’s snickers chased her as she walked quickly towards the next set of doors. She rested her head against the cold metal surface as her omni-tool deployed the master code, praying it would help cool her temperature. She couldn’t help but glance backwards. The bitch was nowhere to be seen but the cackle of malicious amusement never fade. It rang within her head. As disconcerting and scary it all was, Ryder wouldn’t let it stop her. 

The holo-lock cycled through its unlocking sequence and the door slid opened. Her biotics ready, she reacted instinctively. There was a flash of motion. Bared teeth and a keen point extended towards her. Ryder backed up and jerked her hand up, flashing blue instantly as her pistol bucked. She blinked. There was nobody there. Smug laughter rang out. 

“Fuck.”

The frown creasing her brow felt near permanent. She pressed a hand against her head, attempting to push the irritating laughter out of her mind, ignoring how hot it felt to her skin. Legs taking long strides into the room, a cursory check revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

She exited only to be met by the grinning bitch again. This time she didn’t waste bullets or energy. The ghost was barring her way out. Ryder couldn’t bring herself walk through the smug bitch. 

“Get out of the way,” she growled, realising how stupid it was to speak to a hallucination. Her right hand was aching terribly, her glove wet again. 

“Get out of the way,” the bitch mimicked. “You’re sad, you’re such a depressing fuck. Nobody cared about you, not anyone on board the Tempest, not your mother and most certainly not your fucking father. You’re not needed, not wanted, not back in the Milky Way and not here.”

Ryder laughed. “You got to do better than this. Is this the best you can do? Insults? I know these things are true but do you think that’s going to fucking stop me? Fuck, I’d thought my brain is better at this than pitiful school bullying.”

The hallucination flinched as if struck before a knowing smile crept across her lips, perking up the corners. The glint in her eyes self-satisfied and vicious. 

“How about this?”

Slowly and deliberately, nail was set against flesh. 

“Can you feel it?”

Ryder stiffened, somehow she could feel the point against her own skin underneath her glove. She clenched her fist. Biotics pulsed against her fist. 

“Can you feel it if I do this?”

The bitch pressed and pressed, nail on bare skin. The point broke through, a slow steady stream of red trickled from it. She wasn’t done. Teeth bared, she pushed deeper. The nail was worked in and out, each stab driven harder and buried further. The hole got larger and the blood just poured. 

“Can you?”

Ryder hissed, enduring every single one of those piercing cuts as if it was cutting her skin. Her hand throbbed and the glove was saturated with red, sticky, dripping blood. 

She hated feeling this way. She met all her problems head on, hammering away at them till they were ground to dust or shrank away from sheer terror. She was an answer to all kinds of issues packed in a small package. Problems meeting fists, solutions delivered in a violent quick manner. 

But this… As solid as the bitch seemed, it was a figment of her fevered imagination. She had delivered the finishing blow to the bitch months ago. It was a problem corrected. Her jaw had ratcheted so tight, her teeth ached. 

“Pathfinder, I advise you to calm down. Your heart rate is climbing dangerously high.”

“Shut up, SAM.”

“Yeah shut up, SAM,” the bitch mimicked in a singsong manner. 

Ryder’s nostrils flared, biting back the response that perched on her lips, knowing full well the hallucination was going to throw it back in her face. 

_I’m not crazy. I’m not fucking crazy. I’m not going to stare into the rabid dog’s eyes._

“Yeah, you’re totally not crazy,” the bitch laughed. 

She snapped. Her pistol jerked up and she fired. The bullet zoomed right between the bitch’s eyes. It would have impacted against skin, flesh and bone. But it didn’t. Her skull parted like smoke and coalesced once the slug passed. 

“Try that again, that was fun.”

Ryder inhaled, sharp and quick. Her eyes squeezed shut for a split second only to open when she swore she felt the bitch’s breath running down her neck. Teeth gritting, she walked forward. 

“You’re not real, you’re not fucking real!”

The bitch grinned, her teeth sharper and pointier. She gestured with the nail still impaled in her hand. “How about now?”

Eyes wide, jaw opened, Ryder couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The bitch’s face morphed. It flicked between a couple of strange faces, lingering on a turian face she remembered from her nightmare this morning. Before she could process what she was seeing, it changed again. Faces changing as quickly as one might the vid-channels. It stopped on Kosta’s face, bloody and bruised like she last saw him. It cycled through the crew eventually stopped on Harper's. 

Hazel eyes stared at her, hard as stone, her forehead marred by a bullet hole between her eyes. “You always hated me,” not-Harper said. “Admit it, you want me gone.”

Ryder fought the urge to put a bullet through the hallucination again. Her lungs heaved, but air wasn’t quite reaching her lungs. Her temple pulsed hard and insistent. 

_I have to go. I don’t have time for this shit._

A blast of cold air threw her hair back. Wind swept through the daar, setting the nano-bots swirling like pretty fucking snowflakes. It stung her face, prickling against her fire-hot skin. She wavered where she stood, tugged on all sides by duty, expedience, her weakening body and the never bending conviction to do what was required. 

Not-Harper laughed in Harper’s voice, sharp and condescending. It sent a spike of anger to the pit of Ryder’s guts. “Say it,” Not-Harper hissed. “Say it, say it!”

“Fine, I do not fucking like you. I do not fucking trust you. I can be a professional, but you are always just waiting for me to trip up. A second in command that can’t wait to take over. Fuck off!”

She didn’t hesitate. Pistol risen high to strike Not-Harper across her face, her grin parted like fog. Ryder strode through purposefully. Her eyes cast upon the next section of Techiix. One particular set of doors was flickering between green and red, glitching. Most of the other doors she had encountered so far were locked from the outside as if someone had come through and put all the civilians behind them and secured it. Vaguely, she wondered if it was the work of the missing second team that Do Xeel had sent in. 

“Oh looky here, a clue!” Not-Harper laughed, drifting into view. 

Ryder bit her lip, she tasted blood, but it helped her focus. Taking a deep breath, she walked over, tapping her omni-tool. Her omni-tool beeped angrily at her. The master code was rejected. She frowned as she deployed the hacking software that Scott had written for her ages ago. Her right hand tightened and relaxed over the grip of the pistol, each time the wound bled a little more. Absently she brushed her blood-soaked glove across her forehead, leaving a red streak across it. The omni-tool chimed and the holo-lock flickered into an inviting green. 

“SAM, status.”

“Yeah, SAM, what’s dear Sara’s status? She must be awfully hot, like brain damagingly hot.”

“41.3˚C, Pathfinder.”

“Ok.” She exhaled, blinking in hopes to rid Not-Harper from her vision. It was to no avail. Not-Harper snickered. 

“You’re such an unwanted child. Unloved by your parents, by your crew, by everyone—”

“Not Scott,” she growled, hating herself for even speaking to the hallucination. 

“Are you sure? He probably hates you. You got to be Pathfinder while he was stuck in a coma.”

“No.”

“He was the good one but you always never fail to steal his thunder. Bailing you out from C-Sec after shooting a guard trumps his graduation any time.”

“No!”

“You get to fly around in a fancy ship and he is stuck on the station.”

“NO!”

Ryder surged forward, her hand slapping against the holo-lock. It opened to an odd scene. Three angaras clearly belonging to the other team that Do Xeel sent huddled in a corner, dead. Their helmets were uncompromised but they probably succumbed to their wounds given the amount of blue on the floor. 

But who killed them? They made this far, didn’t they? 

“SAM, any life signs here?”

“Yes, two, just beyond the other door.”

Ryder’s jaw tightened. It must be the rest of the team. That other door was also hacked shut, probably by one of the three.

“I’m detecting a higher than usual quantity of nano-bots here.”

“Coming from behind the door?”

“Yes, it appears so.”

“Looks like you found the jackpot, Sara,” Not-Harper sang. 

Her teeth ground together. The omni-tool beeped indicating the door was unlocked. She straightened against the protests of her body. Her chest was a dull ache while her hand throbbed, her head had it the worst. It pounded like a blacksmith was using it as an anvil. 

“SAM, status.”

“Holding steady at 41.3˚C, Pathfinder.”

“Ok, let’s do this. I’m not getting any younger.”

Pistol ready, biotics buzzing under her skin, the whispers of her hallucination shunted to the back of her mind. The door slid open and out came two Resistance fighters. Both were obviously wounded. A broken arm on one and lacerations running up the side of the other. Neither were hampered by their injuries. They lunged and she stepped back, expecting the move. The uncoordinated attack made the pair crashed into each other. 

Ryder wasted no time. Biotics flared and they were flung against the back wall. The one with a broken arm crumpled to the ground. “Stay down, just stay down,” she whispered as she dragged at her core for more biotics. 

It fizzled, her amp seared but there was no more. She was completely drained. Her hands shook as she fought to keep her grip on her flickering consciousness. _Maybe there is no need to fight, just lead her out and lock the fucking door behind her._

A flash of movement came from her left, Ryder flinched and tracked it with her pistol. It was Not-Harper, she laughed. “Got you!”

Before Ryder could turn her attention back on the real threat, the female Resistance fighter had knocked her off her feet. A fist met the side of her head and it split the laceration across her scalp open again. Blood was flowing freely again. She twisted out of the way of the next punch. There was no choice, quickly taking aim with her pistol. She pulled the trigger. It clicked empty. 

“Fuck!”

“Stupid, stupid Sara. Did you not check your ammo? What did Daddy always tell you?” Not-Harper sang. 

Bloodshot eyes gazed at her, looking but unseeing. Ryder circled around but her knees weren’t locking like they used to, they were moments away from folding without her say so. She was bore herself up by sheer stubbornness, but her strength was fading fast. 

Pistol, now useless, was flung at the infected Resistance fighter. The angara didn’t dodge, it clipped her across her forehead, splitting her skin where Ryder had one. Twin wounds on twin warriors, both fighting a battle neither truly wanted. One out of necessity, another being sick out of her mind. 

Ryder roared as she launched herself at the fighter, omni-blade extended in one, firaan in the other. Limbs snapping in lightning quick reflexes of a trained professional, grunts and hisses of pain echoed against the cold and empty daar, blood mingling red with blue. Neither was gaining an upper hand. Ryder’s firaan sliced across the angara’s unprotected side but the anagara’s fist smashed against her temple. Her vision flickered and darkened. She still had work to do, she couldn’t go down. Going down meant failure. She wouldn’t tolerate failure. Panting, she scrambled out of the way, blood trailing down her face, one eye already swelling shut. 

Her opponent was standing in a large pool of her own blood. It made the snow a deep dark blue. By all counts, the angara should be on the ground howling in pain, gasping for air, but the infected felt no pain. Unless they had an AI actively trying to keep her from going all the way crazy. 

“Tired already?” Not-Harper asked sweetly. “Maybe you can just take a little nap.”

“Shut up,” Ryder hissed through gritted teeth. 

She glanced over her shoulder. The open door beckoned. Decision made, she turned and ran. The move took the Resistance fighter by surprise. Ryder slammed her hand on the holo-lock, her fingers tapped frantically against her omni-tool to lock it. She sagged against the door as it flickered red. Her eyes fluttering shut. 

“Pathfinder, I do not advise you to rest. You are unlikely to complete the mission if you stop now.”

Ryder sighed, peeling her eyes open again. SAM was right and she knew it. Not-Harper grinned, squatting down to mock. “What’s the harm of a little break? You’re incompetent anyway. Killing is all you do, saving lives is beyond you.”

Ryder bared her teeth and levered herself to her feet. On shaky feet she entered the adjoining room. She kept her eyes on the other fallen angara. “That one’s dead right?”

“Yes, Pathfinder.”

She got her omni-tool up and started scanning. She couldn’t trust herself to see what really was going on around her. She needed SAM to tell her what’s real, what’s not. 

“There, that cylinder is the source.”

“We found it?” Ryder asked, not quite believing what SAM was telling her. 

“Yes, that is the source.”

She cast her eyes about the room. “Now what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


	13. Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ryder! Ryder!” a familiar voice called. “Calm down. You are in a containment unit. We can’t risk contamination. We couldn’t do a proper decon out in the field.”
> 
> Something blue hovered into view. _T’Perro._ She was wearing something larger than her usual uniform, it looked almost like the space suit humans wrapped themselves in back in the 20th century. 
> 
> “Hot, it fucking burns,” she moaned. “Status, SAM.”
> 
> “I know, I know,” T’Perro attempted to sooth from the outside. 
> 
> “41.7˚C, Pathfinder,” SAM said via their private channel.
> 
> “Do something,” she struggled harder against the box they got her in. It hit her, it wasn’t really a containment unit, it was a coffin. They were consigning her to death. They were not trying. “I’m not dead yet!”
> 
> Her breath came sharp and short as the beeping that came from around her grew louder and shriller. 
> 
> “We have to allow the antipyretic medication to take effect. The containment unit is already cooling you as much as it is safe to do so,” T’Perro explained, her gloves pressed against the box. 
> 
> “Not enough, not enough,” she gasped. “Too fucking hot!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, all whump, some good Grandpa Drack.
> 
> OC and plot belongs to the multi-talented Seo Kanori / MellowCorn. Cover art as always by the awesome [Seo Kanori](https://www.seokanori.com). Check out her [Tumblr](https://seokanori.tumblr.com/) and [website](https://www.seokanori.com)

Ryder stared at the pieces before her. “I can smash it up?”

“No,” SAM interjected urgently. 

“I could walk back out to base camp and you can tell them,” she suggested wearily, her head buried in her hands, eyes closed. 

“No, you run the risk of taking the nano-bots back to base camp.”

“What the fuck, SAM! I can't do this. I'm trained as a sniper, as a mechanic, not an engineer. You need Scott to do this.”

She lifted her head up again. The dampening device was some jerry-rigged mess of wires, transistors and parts she had no names for. Ryder pressed her head against the metal desk and let it cool her skin. Her brain felt like it was boiling. 

The cylindrical container that turned out to be the source of the nano-bots looked decidedly kett in origin. How did it get into Techiix she had no idea. That investigation she’d gladly leave it to Do Xeel. She had secured and sealed the container with whatever materials she had handy. It was the best she could do under the circumstances. She needed some relief but first she needed to somehow let the others know what SAM had found. 

“Why can't you tell them? You're obviously speaking to me now,” she asked, staring at the dampening device helplessly. 

SAM was silent. The lapse in his response made her chest tightened. “SAM!” Panic pitching her voice higher than usual.

“Yes, Pathfinder. I was just attempting to reach the base camp,” he explained. 

“And?”

“My attempts have failed. I think it might be due to the new parameters I am operating under.”

“Shit!”

She slammed her right hand against the table. Pain lanced up her hand. “Do that, why don't you? Such a helpful gesture,” Not-Harper said, playing with the nail again. 

Ryder squeezed her eyes shut before turning back to the mess in front of her. “Ok, ok,” she exhaled. “Tell me what to do.”

* * *

Her vision blurred. Her brain ached though technically it was impossible. Not-Harper whispered and cackled in turns into her ear, the nail never far from sight. She held on by sheer Ryder stubbornness. 

As she flung the last component to the floor the dampening device died with a whimper. She inhaled, relief washing over her like an ice bath, welcome but painful. 

Ryder tapped against the comms station. It crackled. 

“I hope it blows up in your face!” Not-Harper growled spitefully. 

She spared the hallucination a glare before turning back to her task. “Base camp, do you copy?”

Crackling came through but nothing else. “SAM, is this broken?”

“This is Base Camp, reading you loud and clear, is this Pathfinder Ryder’s team?” A voice came through, fast and breathlessly. 

“Ryder speaking, get Do Xeel and your medical team now,” she barked, managing a bite of command despite hovering on the edge of collapse. 

The next ten minutes went by in a blur. She relayed the information as best she could in as coherent manner she was able to. 

“Are you clean?” T’Perro asked. 

Ryder snorted, fever making her lips looser than usual. “No, I'm not. I'm very infected. SAM is giving me a fever from fighting the bots.”

She shifted, keeping Not-Harper in her view. “Tell the next team that's coming in that I left them a present outside. Unless she is dead.”

The buzzing in her head intensified to epic proportions. 

“This is Commander Do Xeel speaking. Ryder, are you able to get to the climate condition room and shut down the heating system?”

She laughed, properly this time. “I don't think so. I can't do everything for you.”

In the background at the other end, she heard shouts and examinations. Drack's voice came through clearly as he roared, “What are you waiting for? She is dying by inches and you are not going in to get her and the others?” 

She sighed, tipping her head against the back of the chair. Her neck exposed. 

“She is risking permanent brain damage for you!” Nyx barked but her words sounded far away.

Not-Harper hovered into view with her nail. She was sucking on it again. Ryder’s fevered mind put Actual-Harper doing it for Scott into her head. A snigger escaped. 

“What's so funny?” Not-Harper asked.

“You.”

Not-Harper’s gaze sharpened. “Really?”

Ryder blinked slowly, tracking the nail in Not-Harper’s hand as best she could. The sneer on her face turned to a grin. A chill ran down Ryder’s spine. 

She had a hand over Ryder’s burning forehead. For a moment the touch was gentle, Ryder imagined that was how a mother's touch should feel. Then, fingernails bit into skin as Not-Harper put her weight down, holding her head still. 

Ryder didn't have the strength to fight. Her struggles only manifested in minute jerks of her head. It was meaningless.

“Let's see how you like this!”

Nail raised high, it slammed home into her temple. Ryder’s world went black. 

* * *

“That’s her, that’s the Pathfinder,” a voice said, it sounded hollow. 

“This is it, the source!” another replied after a while. “Her grip on it is tight.”

“Here let me help.”

Ryder groaned. _Why can’t they leave me alone? I’m fucking tired._

“Pathfinder Ryder, Ryder!” someone shouted in her ear. 

She peeled an eyelid open, deigning to fix her attention on the voice. Everything was a blurry mess. 

“This is Anrad Shaf, do you remember me? I need you to let go. We will get started on the vaccine but we need this.” the voice insisted. 

Fingers were prying against her hand. She had something very important there but the details were escaping her. _An enemy? But the name is familiar._

“Shaf?” she slurred, her tongue thick in her mouth. “You’re the bastard that dropped this fucked up problem in my lap?”

A snort of laughter, short and sharp. “Something like that but the blame goes to the Commander really. Just let go, all right? Help is here.”

Ryder sighed. _Let go? Sounds easy enough._ And so she did, the depths of unconsciousness dragged her down again. 

* * *

The next time she surfaced she was burning, so hot she wanted to peel her skin off her body. Eyes flung open as she struggled. Her hands and feet found hard edges to her world. Her head jerked about. 

“Ryder! Ryder!” a familiar voice called. “Calm down. You are in a containment unit. We can’t risk contamination. We couldn’t do a proper decon out in the field.”

Something blue hovered into view. _T’Perro._ She was wearing something larger than her usual uniform, it looked almost like the space suit humans wrapped themselves in back in the 20th century. 

“Hot, it fucking burns,” she moaned. “Status, SAM.”

“I know, I know,” T’Perro attempted to sooth from the outside. 

“41.7˚C, Pathfinder,” SAM said via their private channel.

“Do something,” she struggled harder against the box they got her in. It hit her, it wasn’t really a containment unit, it was a coffin. They were consigning her to death. They were not trying. “I’m not dead yet!”

Her breath came sharp and short as the beeping that came from around her grew louder and shriller. 

“We have to allow the antipyretic medication to take effect. The containment unit is already cooling you as much as it is safe to do so,” T’Perro explained, her gloves pressed against the box. 

“Not enough, not enough,” she gasped. “Too fucking hot!”

Ryder’s hands fisted around the thin medical gown they got her in. She ripped it off, hoping it might provide a little more relief. There was barely any to be had. The leads and wires that were stuck to her chest went next. The monitors screamed boldly of her apparent death. 

_I’m done for. They have given up. They just want me dead._

Through it all, she could see Not-Harper flickering in and out of her vision, her sharp laughter loud and ringing. The spike of energy came and went, she subsided to hitching breaths and moans. It didn’t matter her naked skin was bare for all to see, the furnace that her body had become overrode all thought. There was only need. 

“SAM, status,” she rasped. 

“Holding steady at 41.7˚C, Pathfinder,” SAM said. “The antipyretic medication is taking effect.”

“Not fast enough.”

“Ryder, just hold on. Once we get the hemodialysis machine here, we can get the nano-bots out of your bloodstream,” T’Perro explained. 

“The others?” Her eyes fluttered shut as she wished for the comforting arms of darkness. 

“They are all under quarantined while the vaccine is being formulated.”

“Are they in coffins too? Are they all given up for dead, like me? Are they all frying in their own flesh?” she asked, voice weak and thin. 

The fever was a weight against her chest, the band around her head and the drill in her brain. Not-Harper’s voice was her lullaby as Ryder tried to will herself into the sweet arms of oblivion. This was the only time the Ryder stubbornness worked against her. She hovered on the thin edge of semi-consciousness. 

T’Perro’s form moved left and right within her view, heavily gloved hands reaching in through the omni-field that separated inside and outside to replaced the wires and leads, calming the machines. 

“Status,” she rasped out of habit.

“No change, Pathfinder. It is holding steady at 41.7˚C.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. A crash and then shouts came. “You can’t do this!” T’Perro was shouting. 

“You’re killing her!” Drack roared. 

Ryder winced, the noise sending another spike up her head. One moment she was listening to Drack’s shouting, the next she was coughing. Blood was pooling in her mouth while she could feel wetness between her thighs, the stink of urine filled the containment unit. Her mind felt fuzzy and worse in the span of seconds.

“What the fuck happened?” he demanded. 

Nyx’s voice drifted over as Ryder tried to get her bearings. Something had happened but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what. Her arms and legs were sore, more so than before. 

“She had a seizure,” Nyx replied. “Drack, we should let Lexi treat her. We’re not doctors.”

“No! I’m not standing here and watch her kill the kid. The meds are not kicking in and whatever machine you’re waiting for isn’t going to be here in time!”

Her head pounded as she spat, clearing the blood from her mouth. Her tongue hurt, she must have bitten on it. 

“Get out of the way, or help me,” he growled. 

“If she dies, it’s on you, Drack,” T’Perro declared. “If the nano-bots gets released into the rest of the camp, all Ryder’s work will be for nothing. She might die because of this but you are undoing all her work.”

Drack didn’t answer. Ryder hadn’t the energy to ask. The shimmering orange field separating her from the outside world powered down with a whine. Claws that rend and cut, gathered her up almost tenderly. She moaned. The contact between steel armour against her fevered skin hurt. 

“I know, I know, kid,” he muttered, her head tucked under his chin, his chest vibrating with his words. 

Drack turned, the hit of cold air against her skin welcome and agonising at the same time. She peeled an eye open, the one that wasn’t swelled shut. Her steel blue eye glared at the assembled. T’Perro and a pair of salarians all clad in full hazmat suits. Drack and Nyx were in their regular armour and helmets. The room was more a lab than a treatment room. Equipment were pushed to the side and her containment unit took up most of the space. 

“Where to old man?”

“Cold shower.”

“Sounds good,” she laughed, her breath couldn’t quite catch. “Sorry for the mess, I think I peed myself.”

His grip on her tightened. “Not worse than a krogan’s dirty diaper, you should have seen the diapers I had to change for Kesh.”

She chuckled, couldn’t quite summon the strength to laugh. Drack took a step forward, T’Perro was barring his way. “Get out of the way,” he growled again. 

T’Perro’s eyes darted between Drack and herself. If she was waiting for Ryder to say something, she was sorely mistaken. Drack snorted once, T’Perro flinched. Nyx had a hand on the asari’s arm. “I’ll keep an eye on things, just let him do this. Ryder isn’t complaining either,” she said as she tugged on T’Perro’s arm. 

T’Perro kept her head held high while Nyx turned to Ryder. “Hey, I see you’re still hanging in there.”

“I’m invincible, don’t you know,” Ryder replied, her single eye half-lidded. 

“Come on, Drack, follow me,” Nyx said. 

* * *

The air was heavy and moist. Ryder opened her eyes again when Drack seemed to settle down on the floor with her cradled in his arms. “What?” she slurred. 

“Cold shower,” he rumbled. 

She nodded, her head barely lifting more than a couple of inches. Nyx and T’Perro hovered close by. The sound of running water started. “Ryder, I’m starting,” Drack warned. 

She nodded again. When what felt like ice hit her skin, she flinched violently, so hard Drack clutched her tighter. “Is she haven’t another seizure?” he barked, his voice tight with anxiety. 

“No, no, Drack. It’s fine, just caught me by surprise,” she choked out through chattering teeth. 

Ryder squeezed her eyes shut. The cold water brought much needed relief to the heat of her skin, but it wasn’t pleasant. It didn’t take long before she was shivering terribly. 

“Fuck…” she cursed, “This is fucking cold.”

The water had made the thin gown wet, and the water left nothing to the imagination. Her lungs clenched and couldn’t quite inflate. Drack’s hands were the only thing that held her together. She was sure she was going to shake herself into pieces at the rate she went. 

“SAM, status,” T’Perro barked, Nyx was baring her way into the shower room.

"41.8˚C.”

“I knew this was going to happen. The water is too cold, her body is shivering, she is generating heat. This isn’t helping her at all.”

Ryder turned her face away from the spray of the water. Everything was hard, everyone had their own ideas and she just wanted everything to go away. Her body was an anchor that weighed her down, her limbs were chains and nothing was certain any longer. Not-Harper’s laughter echoed in her head. 

“She is hot, this is cold. This should work,” Drack insisted. 

Someone shuffled, Nyx said, “I think you should let the doctor speak. Ryder isn’t getting better this way.”

More shuffling as T’Perro said, “Drack, she needs to be sedated, to stop the shivering otherwise this is doing her more harm than good.”

Ryder groaned at the mention of sedation. “I know, I know, kid,” Drack muttered. “I’ll be here. You need this.”

Nyx’s armoured feet moved aside and T’Perro couched down. The spray of water pattering against her suit. Ryder turned her head to watch. “Tell me you are not giving up on me,” she said. 

T’Perro looked at her, blue eyes taking in her own. She didn’t answer instead she looped an oxygen mask over Ryder’s nose and mouth. The hiss of air against her nose helped her breathed better. T’Perro pulled Ryder’s arm towards her own, needles and IV bag ready. Ryder fought against the pull. 

“Tell me,” she spoke against the mask, her voice coming out all muffled. 

“Tell her,” Drack repeated. 

T’Perro glared at the pair of them before sighing. “I’ll take it as a professional affront that you even have to ask that. My job is to keep you alive and well. And I intend to do my job. Will you let me do it?”

Ryder relaxed. The small exchange had drained the dregs of her strength. She sagged against Drack. Somehow the hard armour plates weren’t uncomfortable, they were something solid and stable she could hold onto. 

She winced at a sharp jab against her arm. Drack’s claws pushing the hair from her face. It was soothing and almost mother-like, if she wasn’t so out of it, she would have teased him. Alas, it was an opportunity lost. 

“I’ve got you, kid,” Drack rumbled. “You can stop fighting. I’ve got you.”

Ryder whimpered and sighed. The exhale was a loosening of the tension from the mission, the anxiety of the kett’s plot, the giving in to her utter exhaustion. The darkness opened it arms and whispered, “Welcome back.”

* * *

Ryder breathed steady and even. Welcomed oxygen pressed into her lungs via the mask. 

“She should still be out, hold onto her legs I don't want her kicking my face if she wakes at the wrong moment,” T’Perro said. 

Hands clamped down against her ankles as they tugged her legs apart. Panic rose in her chest, she put conscious effort to make a noise. It was a three-fingered hand. _Nyx, probably._ She relaxed again, fighting to return to a state of calm.

Her skin pebbled as cool air rushes in to fill the void. Cold rubber fingers parted the lips of her intimate parts, a damp pad brushed against it. Ryder couldn't help flinching. 

“I think she is rousing,” Nyx said.

“All the more reason to hurry up. Damn that biotics’ metabolism,” she muttered.

Some cold and pliable was pushed and it slipped deeper and deeper into her. It sent sharp and short stabs into her crotch. She held her breath. 

“Don't clench,” T’Perro instructed. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” she moaned, her words crumpled like wet paper. 

“Just try and relax,” Nyx soothed, rubbed an armoured hand on her calf. 

“You try it,” she spat, rousing fully now. 

“There, done,” T’Perro said, hands withdrawing.

There was an odd sensation of peeing without actually consciously making the decision to. Ryder was just relieved it was over, slumping back against the deactivated containment unit. 

“SAM, status.”

“39.7˚C, Pathfinder.”

Ryder blinked, surprised it had dropped below 40˚C. Her head was still fuzzy but it no longer buzzed like bees had taken up residence in her head. “I’m going to treat your other wounds,” she said, “I trust this won't be a problem, right? I don't need the krogan watching me like I can't do my job.”

Ryder rolled her head. Nyx has let go of her ankles and was stepping away, giving T’Perro space to work. Drack said nothing but tracked T’Perro’s movement with his yellow dragon-like eyes. 

“Kid, glad to see you awake.”

“How long was I out?”

Ryder no longer felt she was completely spent, just weary of a bone deep variety. She pulled a little at her core. It flickered like a candle in the wind. It was there but she could barely lift her hand let alone using her mind to do things. 

“Six hours or so.”

She grunted. T’Perro undid her gown and started cleaning the slash across her chest and arms with antiseptic. Medi-gel quickly followed. It was numbing and carried analgesic effects.

“What about the vaccine? What's the status on that?”

Drack shrugged. Nyx stepped into her view. “T'loza’s team, Suvi and Scott are working on it. Lexi was supposed to help but, well... you know, you were making friends with the Grim Reaper. So she had to haul you back.”

Ryder snorted. T’Perro hit a button and the unit shifted, putting her into an upright position. Bandages covered the medi-gel slathered wounds before T’Perro started cleaning the cuts on her face and scalp. 

“Don’t mind me getting fried out of my skull.”

Drack snorted. Ryder glanced at the others, wincing at T’Perro pulled pieces of glass and rock from her head. All of them were still dressed in their full armour. “You guys should be resting. There is nothing you can do here. I’m sure I don’t need another cold shower again.”

“Oh no, we can’t leave,” Nyx said. 

She cocked her head while T’Perro pushed it back pointedly. 

“By pulling you out of the containment unit, we have consigned all of us, including the scientists from T’Loza’s team over there,” Nyx pointed at the salarians slumped against the wall, resting, “to a full quarantine. You’re basically radioactive until we are sure you’re completely free from all nano-bots.”

“Oh.”

“That’s right, oh,” T’Perro said, her voice flat, her hands rough as she wielded needle and thread against Ryder’s scalp. “You are swimming with nano-bots. You might be dispensing nano-bots just by speaking. We can’t see it with our bare eyes. We scrubbed you clean before putting you into the containment unit. Inside, they are kept at bay by SAM’s manipulation of your physiology. The fever controlled by medicine. It spiked as high as it did because you were running a mission without any medication to control it. It is possible we all are infected.”

Ryder sagged a little, on one hand she was more than a little taken aback the risks that Drack and Nyx had taken for her, on the other hand she could barely be responsible for the actions of others. “So now what?”

T’Perro knotted the stitch and gave it a final tug. Ryder grimaced. “Now we wait for the damn hemodialysis machine.”

“Can’t I just take the vaccine?”

“You were exposed to the source, everyone else who were exposed to it are already dead. And based on the blood we have drawn, you have a higher concentration of the bots. The vaccine might work for you but it’s probably better to be safe than dead.”

She nodded, understanding the sentiment. Nyx approached with a glass of water. “Drink, you’re dehydrated from the fever.”

T’Perro sighed, clearing away the instruments. “Can I enlist your help, Vetra?” she asked. 

After T’Perro and Nyx disappeared into another room Drack got to his feet and walked over. His eyes worried and tired. “Kid, don’t do that to me again,” he growled half-heartedly. 

Ryder chuckled. “No promises, old man. No promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated.


End file.
